


A Monster for a Mate

by Eristicka



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Pennywise - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Book Series: The Dark Tower, Dark Pennywise, Deadlights, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Horror, Mating, Multi Chapter, Multiverse, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eristicka/pseuds/Eristicka
Summary: It, a creature of the Prim, cannot reproduce through another of Its kind, but through a host, an inferior being.  For centuries, humans have only served as a source of food, until one day, a being half human and half something It cannot place, sets foot in Derry.  Its last cycle of waking and sleeping is thrown into disarray when Pennywise comes face to face with Luseres, the last descendant of the Nephilim.





	1. Prologue

A Monster for a Mate

Prologue

\-----

“You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature”   
– Eliza Crewe

“ _Something new had happened._  
 _For the first time in forever, something new… and there had been pain, pain, great roaring pain… and for one moment there had also been fear, because…all living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit. For the first time, It realized that perhaps Its ability to change Its shape might work against It as well as for It. There had never been pain before, there had never been fear before, and for a moment It had thought It might die - oh Its head had been filled with a great white silver pain, and it had roared and mewled and bellowed… Suppose there was Another? Suppose… suppose…_  
 _Now they were coming again, and while everything had gone much as It had foreseen, something It had not foreseen had returned: that maddening, galling fear… So, another new thing, if you please: for the first time in Its never-ending history, It needed to make a plan; for the first time It found Itself afraid simply to take what It wanted from Derry, Its private game-preserve…_ ”  
-Stephen King, It

\-----

  
1.

_A Walk Among the Ruins_

  
Penobscot County  
D  
E  
R  
R  
Y  
Maine

I can feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I look up at the sign marking the city limits. For a moment I wonder how long the somewhat faded and dusty plaque has stood at the edge of the town, like a faithful watchman who has become frozen at his post with the passing of time, becoming rooted to the ground into which he is placed. I see it as a symbol of what I became since losing that part of me that was human, for I too stand frozen in time, and today will be the day when I finally enter into my first slumber.

  
Today, I reunite with him.

  
_It._

  
The clown lies waiting for me deep underground, two years into his hibernation. I remained behind, promising to join him on the other side of sleep when my time came to go Todash. For two years I have waited for the bells to chime, wandering the streets of the place made after his image. I miss him, terribly, hearing his childish high-pitched laughter in the wind and catching glimpses of him peeking from behind trees and hiding in the underbrush. At night, as I lay curled in the darkened and decaying rooms of the Neibolt house I can almost feel him, the rustle of white silver silk shattering the stillness as I imagine a large, gloved, ghostly hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

  
It finally happened in the wee hours when I came to sit on the grassy patch beneath the town sign as was my daily ritual. Every morning at exactly 3 a.m. I leave the relative safety of Neibolt and walk the deserted streets to the same spot, watching the black and straight line of Route 7 until the sun rises and the first trucks carrying the fruits of local farms come rolling into town. I had just settled on the grass, resting my head against the steel beams, when I felt my ears become inflamed and I registered the distant ringing. It grew and grew, and as I sat in the darkness looking into the trees for the source of the sound, I finally realized that the jingling came from within my chest. My call had finally come, and as I felt a yawn form in my throat, I shouted with joy.

  
Now here I stand, dusting off my jeans and reaching for the handle of my old and torn suitcase, my sole companion and the only link I have left to a past I can no longer remember. The LV pattern is faded and the once rich brown leather is now a sickly yellow, but inside are the items I carried when I set foot on this town two years ago. There are also a wrinkled receipt from the Derry Townhouse and a driver’s license from Vermont which reads:

Name: Luseres Dietrich  
Born: November 6, 1989  
Blood Type: AB

I begin to make my way back into town, and as Route 7 becomes Witcham Street with its rows of quaint houses surrounded by white picket fences, dawn is just breaking. In the distance I can hear the revving of machinery as early working crews continue the prolonged work of restoring the center of town. Soon, Derry will not only be rebuilt, but revamped into an urban complex, rivaling the likes of Bangor. I make my way down West Broadway, turn left on Kansas Street, and finally enter Neibolt Street just as the sun rises in the East. _It is sure to be a beautiful summer day in New England_ , I realize as I am bathed in golden light, but none of it matters. My legs are becoming heavier with each step, my shoulders weigh me down, and I find myself blinking just a tad longer.

  
I stop in front of the old abandoned house, Pennywise’s home, and remember the few days I spent trapped inside its walls. My flesh went stiff with fear at the exotic horrors found in its shifting halls and chambers of unimaginable terrors, I screamed until my throat felt raw, but it was also there where I left my humanity behind and rose unafraid, finally embracing that part of myself which until then I refused to accept. It was deep beneath that old, charred and blackened house where my fate was joined with his.

  
I let out a sigh of relief and continue on, disappearing into the trees at the end of the lane. Here the earth slopes downward, and I carefully pull my suitcase behind me as I skillfully climb down into the Barrens below. As I enter the clearing, the first trains of the day whistle as they chug on the bridge above en route to the sea. I carry the suitcase over my head as I maneuver through the wetlands, stepping over stones and splashing in the shallow waters of the Kenduskeag. As I finally reach the edge of the Barrens, I look back one last time at the cliffs that mark the western edge of town. It will be twenty-five years before I set eyes, hungry eyes, upon that rock face once more.

  
The entrance to the spillway tunnel opens up before me, like the gaping mouth of a creature from the Prim, gasping for breath on the shores of some parallel world. The water that once spilled from the Canal now trickles into the improved underground tunnels built by Derry Public Works. These old drainpipes are dry now, dark sepulchral mazes that are abandoned to the elements. My boots make a clickety-sound that thumps along to the humming of the suitcase wheels dragging across the cement. I bid farewell to the world as the light streaming from outside fades when I make a turn into a narrower tunnel. I’m soon enveloped in darkness, every now and then broken by thin streams of sunlight that push their way through the cracks above. Further and further in I go, and soon the tunnels open into the center of the old sewer system. Pipes begin to emerge from the thick walls, broken and caved in.

  
It is into one of these that I climb, squeezing through an opening large enough in the debris. I haul my suitcase in and continue hunched over, once again winding left and right, guided by instinct. Something buried deep in these manmade catacombs is calling to me, and I feel warmth rising in my chest as the deadlight I carry within begins to gleam. Finally, I reach the collapsed entryway of what I’ve come to call home. I slide through the cracks of a huge slab of concrete that blocks it off from the rest of the world, and I spill inside.

Pennywise’s Tower.

  
I fight back tears as I look upon its destruction. Both the enormous collection of mementos from his past hunts and the circus wagon in which I spent many a moment lost in rapture now lie crushed beneath a small mountain of debris. The tower collapsed into itself on that horrible day in May when I made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the survival of the monster to whom I am bound. Instinctively I look down at my hands and for a moment I can see the small bundle of pale white skin and vibrant eyes look up at me in complete trust as I hand her over to be devoured by her dying father. The tears finally flow for I can no longer contain them.

  
“ _There will be more, I promise_ ” I had pleaded with urgency, literally pushing the humanoid infant who was now was crying loudly into his deteriorating hands. He had mewled, bellowed and roared against it, recoiled from the idea, but as my own skin began to crumble he lunged for her, unhinging his jaws and swallowing her whole.

  
I didn’t even look away.

  
I place my suitcase down and make my way to the edge of the only well that has remained intact. I throw my legs over the ladder and begin my descent into total darkness. I can feel my vision adjusting the lower I go, my green irises morphing into amber. My chest now glows brighter as my deadlight senses the nearness of its mate: Pennywise is in the nest. When I reach the bottom I eagerly climb into the claustrophic tunnel dug by him centuries ago. Exhaustion threatens to crush my bones as I crawl the last few hundred yards, and then at last, I am home.  
The nest becomes dimly light by the glow emanating from my chest, and I rush over to him.

  
“Penny, I’m here” I call out, but he remains unmoving. Of course, he can’t hear me, he is no longer in this world. His deadlight does not glow. The avatar remains, but It is in the Todash darkness. Through now heavy eyelids I look upon Its most favored form, and I feel a surge of warmth and love wash over me. The clown is curled into a ball, almost cat-like, with an arm hiding his face. I lovingly run my fingers through his fine tufts of hair, reveling in their silky quality.

  
“January embers” I whisper, and for some reason the words feel as though they carry a significant weight.

  
Feeling the last threads of consciousness become severed, I lay down next to him and press my body to his. As my eyes slowly close I hope that I dream of my past. _Please let me remember, just let me remember_ , are the last words that go through my mind as I slip into slumber and go Todash.

 

2.

_Together Again_

 

My eyes open and I see that I stand at the edge of a dense coniferous forest. Powdery snow blankets the ground like ash. It drifts gently in the breeze, and I place my hand out to catch the flakes. They immediately disintegrate when they come in contact with my skin, but instead of melting, they evaporate back into the air, floating upwards to a starless sky. A sense of dread grips me as I look up at the black expanse that envelopes me completely. There is only darkness above me as well as behind me. _What if I’m lost? What if I drifted into the Prim? What if Pe…_

  
Just then, the faint sounds of calliope music drift towards me in the breeze and I turn back to the forest. The snow clears and I begin to make out the pointed tops of large tents somewhere behind the trees. Lights flicker, and after sparks explode right above me, a large sign I hadn’t noticed comes to life and the name PENNYWISE lights up the darkness. The ground shifts beneath me and a path lined with flickering lights opens up before me.

  
“Of course. What else could it be?” I chuckle and enter the fairground that becomes alive the moment I set foot inside. Rides gear on, the carousel lights up and begins to go round and round. Tents open up on either side of me, their shelves lined with antique toys to be won. The carnival music blasts from all sides, like a hymn of joy that announces my arrival. Jack-in-the-boxes spin on their own and pop open, with tiny versions of Pennywise bursting up and laughing that deliciously devious cackle of his. As I finally reach the merry-go-round, my eyes go wide with amazement.

  
There are shadows inside. Small black masses with somewhat human shapes ride the carousel horses, some sit in the chariots, and some just stand and take hold of the bars. As I look around me I notice more of them, walking slowly through the fair, some stopping at the attractions, others standing at the contest stalls. The more I notice them, the more there seem to be. They come in all shapes and sizes, some barely reaching my knee while others tower above me, but they all float happily through the carnival.   
Suddenly, the unmistakable voice of Pennywise comes booming out from above.

  
“Step right up, children, step right up! Come near, come close! You’ll laugh, you’ll cry! You’ll cheer, you’ll die! Introducing Pennywise, the Dancing Clown! Woo ah ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

  
A traveling stage opens and inside is a life size marionette of Pennywise himself. The wooden puppet breaks into a jig, kicking its legs outward to the tempo of the music. The shadows roaming the fair begin to slink toward the stage, and as I now stand alone, I take notice of the largest tent in the grounds, pitched away from all the attractions. As I look, one of its curtains lifts on its own, beckoning me to enter. A different kind of music drifts from inside, soft, somber notes that are wrung from a wind instrument, and in a trance, I make my way towards it.

  
My breath catches in my throat when I step over the threshold. There, with his back turned towards me, is Pennywise. His head hangs low and his body sways as he plays the concertina. Though I cannot see it, I know his eyes are closed, reveling in every note, every sigh of sorrow that spills form the bellows of the instrument.

  
I watch him in silence and awe as he fills the tent with the most melancholic and serene of songs. It is a song that speaks of the sorrow of two lovers separated by distance and time. When it ends, I swallow the lump in my throat, understanding that in his own way, Pennywise is voicing the emptiness he has felt without me near.

  
“So… this is how they really float” I manage to choke out.

  
His arms drop by his sides and the concertina falls to the floor. He turns, and my chest swells when his two sulfurous eyes lock into mine. I can see relief and worry combined inside their yellow depths, but their sparkle returns the moment his lips part into an ear-splitting smile. In a breath I close the distance, my arms wrapping around his neck as his hands cup my face.

  
“My little songbird, I thought you’d never get here”

End of Prologue  
  
  



	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Luseres Dietrich? Where does she come from? What is she made of? And just how did she end up in Pennywise's territory? Let's begin to find out...

 

\-----

PART 1: WHAT LIES BEFORE

A Monster for a Mate  
Chapter 1 

1.

_Reminiscing_

May, 2016

 

_So, where does this story begin?_

_Some would say in September of 1989, when a wounded It went deep into the earth to heal, sleep… and to plot.  Some would say it begins when It awoke once more, in the summer of 2015 to feed upon Its game.  There are those who say it begins upon my own awakening, nine years prior in the fall of 2008.  Others would argue that it begins on the day I met Pennywise the Clown.  And then there are those who go off the deep end, who begin to rant about how Pennywise was doomed the moment Its opposing force, some great big Turtle floating in space, choked on a couple of galaxies.  But all I know, all I remember, are the ramblings of some madman dressed in a crisp black suit.  He spoke as if from far away, spinning a tall tale of how the balance of some cosmic, mythological structure in the blackness behind the universe hung by the guardians of the beams.  He talked of how they all needed to come down. It all seemed ludicrous then, but now I know that he spoke as though I would somehow come to play a part in it all. Perhaps his words held no real meaning, perhaps they were simply the disjointed, incoherent, and angry mumbo jumbo of some space lunatic._

_But now I know he spoke of It, and the one certainty which came to pass years later.  And now, in these short, few months in which I fell under the spell of Pennywise’s guises and floated in the deadlights that danced in his eyes, I grew to understand him.  To like him, need him.  Love him?  Maybe.  Yes, maybe that too._

_“Shh, there there,” I whisper as I place the small, warm bundle in the nest.  A sound that is both a sigh and a chuckle escapes my lips as the bundle stirs and begins to whine, then quiets and goes still.  Part of me wants her to wake just so I can look into her eyes and fall in love all over again with those two, shining yellow embers.  Instead, my hand reaches out and I smooth back the red wisps of hair that stubbornly stick out around her head._

_Just then, the fear strikes me.  It is a primeval cold that seeps into my bones and makes me stiff with dread.  The fear is not my own, and I cannot truly rationalize it, but it still leaves me paralyzed, and against my nature, I fear my own mortality._

_“They’re coming” the voice behind me says.  I turn to find Pennywise entering the nest.  He collapses in my arms, and I try my best to soothe that fear, that white silver pain that leaves him blind and terrified._

_“They can’t kill you” I say, wrapping my entire body around him.  “You can be hurt, threatened, cornered.  But never killed.  You’re the Eternal, the Eater of Worlds”_

_He shudders, and my embrace tightens._

_“Do you hear me?” I say forcefully, pulling back to look him in the face.  He nods frantically, trying his best to smile and look composed, but I see the desperation in his eyes.  They’re bloodshot, and the black kohl around his eyes is glistening with tears._

_“I called for them.  I sent them my calling card in blood.  And when they get here I will kill them all!  I will cast them, shrieking and insane into the deadlights.  And then…”_

_“…we will feast” we say together “and doze for a while”_

_He presses his lips to mine, and as I taste the sweetness of his mouth, I feel his lips tremble.  The words of that man in black come to mind once more, and I can’t help but think that the ka-tet of six who were once seven are agents of that man.  Or perhaps… I was._

_“_ The portal must remain open _” were the last words he had said before he disappeared into the bustle of Main Street, leaving me stranded in a town I did not know._

_So, where does this story begin?_

2.

_The Opera_

October, 2015

 

 _Masquerade!_  
_Paper faces on parade_  
_Masquerade!_  
_Hide your face_ _  
_ _So the world will never find you…_

            I stood behind the curtain and watched in fascination as the performers followed the choreography to perfection.  I looked out to the audience, and my eyes scanned over the throngs of black hoods that lined the aisles, invisible to all, save for me.  Instinctively, even after years of having those dark guardians as my constant companions, I still looked around me to see if any had noticed.  I caught a glimpse of my costar Michael O’Hare getting into position to burst into the scene at his cue.  The makeup artist was adjusting the mask that covered half his face, and he was wrapping the cloak around him in just the right place that would allow him to create the Phantom’s signature swoosh of the cape.  I turned back to the stage and watched as another fellow performer, Jeremy Hammell, who stood on stilts and wearing a big ruffled onesie, sprinted to the front of the stage, where he did a tip-toeing number as the rest of the ensemble brought the second act into full gear.

 _Eye of gold…_  
_Thigh of blue…_  
_True is false…_  
_Who is who?_  
_Curl of lip…_  
_Swirl of gown…_  
_Ace of hearts…_ _  
_ _Face of clown…_

            “Faces… drink it in, drink it up, till you’ve drowned in the light…” I hummed along quietly as I watched him prance around the stage, the exact image of that character from my childhood I held dear.  As he finished his small number and retreated to the back he flashed me a wink, and I returned it with a thumbs-up.  I knew he would agree, he had no choice in the matter.

            “Oh come on Jeremy!  Do it for me” I had whined in rehearsals, batting my eyelashes like an exaggerated coquette.

            “Fine fine, don’t get your panties in a wad” he said, taking the folded paper which bore the somewhat grainy and low-quality picture I had printed out “what’s the deal with this clown anyway?”

            “He was my favorite growing up!  You know, my mom even drove five hours just so I could see him at a fair in Buenos Aires.  I watched his…”

            “You watched his show every freaking day, yeah you told me that.  Creepy looking bozo, probably some pedophile or a drunkie.  You owe me dinner” he retorted, handing the picture to Gladys, one of the makeup artists.

            “You’re the best!” I squealed, kissing him on the cheek and rushing out of the trailer to get fitted.

            I was broght back to the present when I felt someone come stand next to me, take my hand, and wrap it around his arm.

            “Now look like you really love me” quipped Conor Fontaine, my costar who played Raoul.  He was tall and unbelievably handsome.  A perfect poster boy with his long blond hair and piercing blue eyes; and yet it was Michael, with his rugged looks and unapologetic humor into whose hotel room I snuck in at night. 

            “Scarlett, Conor… off you go” signaled the stage master.

            “I will never get used to your stage name” Conor laughed and we waltzed back into the scene. 

            The production had been a roaring success.  Thirty cities, one hundred and fifty shows, sold out theaters across the country, Canada, and Mexico.  But on that night, on the last show of the _Phantom_ ’s North American tour, the energy was electrifying.  As much as I was a creature of control and poise, I allowed myself for once to become lost in the magic of it all.  The lights, the colors, the rousing music of the orchestra.  In my eyes, Michael truly became the Phantom, Conor was Raoul, and Jeremy was Pizarrín, the clown who had delighted my afternoons as a child. 

 _Have you gorged yourself_  
_At last in your lust for blood?_  
_Am I now to be prey_  
_To your lust for flesh?_

            My voice cracked with rage and horror as I confronted the monster.  I could feel more than hear the held breaths from the audience.  The throngs of black hoods that lined the aisles however, remained motionless.

            I kissed the monster then, and I could feel the prosthetics that covered half of Michael’s face tickle my lip.  The kiss was intense, passionate, and as he returned the fervor, I wrapped my hands around his neck.  The audience burst into raucous applause.  A few moments later, there were tears in the audience and from fellow cast members watching from behind the curtain as I sailed away with another, leaving the monster to crumble in the depths.

            The curtain fell.  One by one the cast walked onstage to receive their accolades.  When Michael and I walked hand in hand, we received a standing ovation.  The cheering and applause were deafening.  The black hoods finally raised their heads and at once, they joined in the applause.  I blew a kiss, and even though to the eyes of all I was reciprocating the love from the spectators, I was in truth acknowledging my father, who stood just behind the orchestra.  From his black cloak he retrieved a single red rose tied with black ribbon, and he tossed it at the stage.  It landed at my feet, and I picked it up, took a long whiff of its fragrance and walked backstage.

            The curtain fell again.

 

3.

_Daddy Issues_

            I listened to the sound of Michael breathing.  His left arm was wrapped around my waist and his naked body was pressed behind me.  His breathing, still shallow and coming in pants, was beginning to slow down and deepen.  A minute or two more, and he would be fast asleep.  Learning to predict the post-coitus patterns of a man after a few times underneath him was almost a science of sorts.  For Michael, I had his pattern down to a tee after Washington D.C.  We had begun to sneak into each other’s hotel rooms and dressing rooms at Atlanta.  From casting and rehearsals, there had been this energy between us.  No, not actor’s chemistry, but an electricity that sparked and crackled the moment we touched hands and began to go through the early stages of learning the choreography.  We sang as we rehearsed, and I could feel his eyes burn into mine, not in that beguiling, deceitful way typical of a performer of his status, but his eyes danced.  They were a bright, open shade of blue, and yet behind the frankness of their depths, I could see the storm brewing within.  It was dark, and full of lighting and thunder.  Soon after the production left its home in the Majestic, our hands began to do the talking.  Flowers in my dressing room, embraces held a few moments longer, tighter and constricting.  That electricity soon made its way onto the stage, and it echoed in the reviews that followed the _Phantom_ after it packed and made its way onto the next city.  “The passion and the aura ooze from the wooden beams of the stage, flow past the pipes and strings of the orchestra, and intoxicate all that sit in the plush red seats of the opera house” Steve Connelly from the _New York Times_ had written. 

            I let out a small giggle and I felt Michael shift behind me.  His breathing was now coming in long, deep inhales, and he turned onto his back.  He was asleep.  I stole a glance at him, and I slunk off the bed.  Upon emerging from the bathroom, I quickly gathered my undergarments from the floor, then the red beaded Versace dress I had worn to the after party.  I slid on my pumps and turned back to the bed.  I watched Michael sleep, taking in the way his black hair covered half his face, almost Phantom-like.  His broad chest rose and fell, and my eyes ran over the thin line of hair that traveled from his chest, down his stomach, and disappeared under the sheet that draped over the bottom half of his body.  He was an excellent lover, perhaps one of the best I’d had, but that wasn’t saying much.  He mattered to me no more than my next meal.  I would not see him again until the international tour kicked off in four months, and most likely by then, there would be a new toy to play with.

            I placed a gentle kiss on the one cheek that was exposed and headed for the door.  As I passed the sitting room, I gulped down the remaining wine from the bottle at the table, grabbed my wristlet from the couch, and left.

            Upon exiting the elevators and crossing the lobby, I took notice of the striking man in the black and red suit waiting by the doors.  He twirled his cane in what I knew was exasperation and impatience.

            “Were you really going to stand there till I came out?  What if I decided to stay the night for once, dad?”

            “Ha!  You never do” he snorted, wrapping an arm around me and guiding me out to the black SUV with tainted windows that waited.  A black hood disguised as a valet attendant held the door open.

            “There’s bound to be lots of attention at the Ritz” he said as the SUV took off into the brightly lit streets of Los Angeles.

            “Why would you do that?  What if I wanted to be alone for once?” I groaned, looking out aimlessly toward the city lights.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see his head snap toward me so fast, he might have broken a bone or two if he were human.

            “On your night of triumph?!  What’s come over you?  You wanted this”

            I didn’t answer, pretending to be enthralled by the darkened windows of buildings and small shops.  There was a mural that depicted the struggles of Mexican immigrants in the narrow and over-populated streets of downtown L.A. 

            “I sent flowers to Katherine” I said after a while “you nearly killed her”

            “Oh come on, since when you do you feel any remorse?  You wanted this” he repeated, and this time, his voice dropped a few notches, turning raspy and dry, almost like a growl.  He was twirling his cane again, and I watched his fingers run over the handle made out of solid gold and carved into the image of a serpent.  Or was it a dragon? 

            “I didn’t mean it when I said it.  If anything, you could have just…” what could he have done?  Make her catch a really bad case of tuberculosis and have her miss the production, only to return after convalescing, thus leaving me in the sidelines again to play poor old Meg Giry as I was originally cast?  Or maybe…

            “Given her throat cancer?!” he laughed, loud and boisterous, slapping the shoulder of the black hood sitting on the passenger seat.  He and the other sitting at the wheel laughed along.

            “With only a month before rehearsals? How would you have done it, Lus?” the one driving asked through his laughter, looking at me through the rearview mirror with his bright, red eyes.  I made a face at him.

            My dad scoffed.  “Say what you will, that human part of you will always infuriate me.  You take what you want, with no thought to the cost.  Do you understand me?” he asked, taking my hand.  I nodded.

            “Yes, dad”

            The SUV was now turning into the circular driveway of the Ritz Carlton.  “Good.  Now, get out there, and bask in the glory you deserve”

            The black hoods at the front transformed into men in suits as we drove into the chaos of paparazzi and fans.  The black hoods stepped out, with one going to control the crowd, and the other to open the door of the car.  Right before I stepped out, I turned to my father once more.

            “I will be going back to Vermont tomorrow and there is something you WILL do for me” I snapped at him and then exited the vehicle. 

            I smiled my way through the crowd, signing pictures of Michael and I as the Phantom and Christine, pictures of me alone on the stage belting out “Think of Me”, and editorial photographs.  I took selfies, shook hands, gave hugs, and tried my damned hardest not to squint at the binding flashes of the photographers.  My father stood directly behind me, invisible to all, and yet with the smuggest smile upon his face.  If there was something the daughter of the Great Orchestrator of all evil could boast of, it was of a doting, proud, overprotective father. 

            “Whatever it is, I won’t do it.  I know where you’re going with this” he retorted as I finally made it inside and the elevator doors closed.  He said it with such rigidity, and yet his voice sounded already defeated.

            “Yes you will” I smiled, taking off my pumps.  

            “I will not leave you unprotected”

            The elevator dinged, and we exited into the Presidential Suite. 

            “Unprotected?!” I laughed, walking into the bedroom.  The black hood who kept watch over me stepped out of the closet and transformed into his usual façade.  “And just who do I need protection from?  Nosferatu?!” I said with obvious sarcasm, pointing to my guardian.  He sucked in a breath in mock offense.  “Sorry Nos” I said to him.  He only chuckled, exactly like my favorite monster, and waved his long, spidery hands at me.

            “There are things you do not understand” my father nearly shouted “things you will never be able to even begin to comprehend, because of that cursed human nature you carry.  You’re limited, and as much as you are my daughter, and an Untouchable, you are still at risk…”

            “Aww, am I really so-”  
_Important_  
      “-precious to you?” I cooed, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his arm.

            “Don’t try to flirt with me, I’m not one of your toys” he said, shaking me off.  My tone softened even more.

            “All I ask is ten days.  No you, no black hoods, no guardians.  I need some space”

            “You wish to be rid of me, Lus?” Nosferatu gasped, clutching his chest, pretending to be deeply wounded.  I chuckled and walked to him, wrapping my arms around him.  He returned the embrace and placed his cheek upon my head.  Nosferatu had been with me since my eighth birthday, never leaving my side.  I had convinced him to change his appearance into the classic vampire, and had remained my closest friend ever since.

            “I think the precious princess needs a vacation.  You’re tired, aren’t you?” Nos said softly, gently holding my chin and cooing at me.  I nodded and stuck my bottom lip out like a little child.

            “Enough!” barked my father, sickened at the childish sight.  Nosferatu looked at me and shrugged. 

            “Killer of joy” I murmured under my breath, but Nos wouldn’t dare react, biting his lips to keep from laughing.

            My father sighed.  The cane twirled again.  He had lost this battle the moment I had stepped out of the car.

            “You will not leave Vermont.  Ten days” he said with finality.  I squealed and I hugged him tight.  He only rubbed my shoulders twice and stepped back.  Physical contact was something he always shied away from, especially from me.  He preferred to show his affection in much “practical ways,” as he put it. 

 

4.

The Man in Black

 

            I landed in Vermont to no fanfare, having left it behind in the chaos of L.A.  My white Range Rover was waiting for me at the parking garage when I exited Morrisville-Stowe Airport.  The car was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition.  No black hood in sight.  With my bags secured in the trunk, I now drove down Route 100, past the lower village and the tourist area, into the residential area of the mountains.  Getting off the main road and taking the narrow streets into the wooded area, I soon reached the one-lane that diverted into the long driveway lined with pine trees, and I stopped at the wooden gates lined with black ironwork.  The gates beeped and whirred as they opened, and I was home.  I had changed the name of the property from Black Mountain Villa to Haven Estate upon my purchase of it nearly three years ago.  The majestic stone mansion rested on top of a hill, the crowning glory of the thirty acres that surrounded it, mostly hidden by pines and evergreens.

            I opened my luggage and threw my clothes on the bed as I made the necessary phone calls.  My parents were first, and it took enough convincing to keep them from getting into the next plane.  I lied, saying I was going to New Zealand on vacation. My brother and sister were next, and the same lie kept them away.  Friends were kept at bay by simple text, and the messages sent by Michael, asking where I was and if we could meet up, went ignored.  The last call I placed was to the housekeeper.  She had been to the house just the day prior, she said, and had stocked up the fridge.  She offered to come in, but I told her I’d be away, and instructed her to return with the cleaning crew in ten days.  With hesitance, she relented.

            I walked down the winding staircase and entered the butler’s pantry to grab a beer from the bar when I suddenly stopped in my tracks.  The fridge was open.  As I closed it, I turned to the sound of a crown cork popping open, followed by a sigh of contentment and whistling coming from the balcony adjacent to the kitchen.

            My blood boiled as I sprinted past the kitchen and burst into the balcony.

            “You lying, deceitful snake!  How could…”

            My accusation died in my throat as I took in the man sitting on my armchair.  His wavy, black hair was perfectly combed back, his black suit was perfectly pressed, and his blue eyes looked at me with amusement.

            “…you” I breathed. 

            He smiled and nodded.  I hadn’t seen the Man in Black in years, not since the day of my Awakening.  It had been my 21st birthday, the day I had been officially recognized as my father’s daughter, the last descendant of the Nephilim.

            “Forgive me for making myself at home, we don’t have beer this good where I come from” he said, taking a long chug of my Stella Artois.

            “What are you doing here?” I said, snapping out of my shock.

            “Oh, you know me, I’m just a walkin’ dude, passin’ thru” he said in his distinct drawl.  He looked me up and down. “You look good.  Healthy.  Prosperous.  Congratulations on the play.  You got what you wanted”

            He threw an open newspaper on the table.  I picked it up and groaned when I saw a picture of me performing two nights ago with the title: _The Best Christine Daae since Sarah Brightman_?   

            “The most angelic voice to ever caress the walls of the Shrine Auditorium” the Man in Black quoted from the paper. “I don’t know where the Shrine Auditorium is, but it sounds like some pretty big stuff.  Daddy must be proud” he winked and took another long drink.  I shifted on my feet and crossed my arms.  He wasn’t praising me, he was judging me. 

            “If you’re passing through, you must be going somewhere” I said.

            “Indeed I am” he said, standing.  He walked up to me, tilting the beer bottle back and taking another long chug.  “Just left New York City.  Looking for a boy named Jake.  Got a couple of questions for him.  Figured I’d stop by and check in on you.  See how you’re holding up”

            “Well, you seem to know everything there is to know.  Save you a trip up here”

            “Oh, but I did need to come here.  Last time, when we met, you had quite a few questions, don’t you remember?”

            I looked away.  I remembered quite vividly.  I had hounded him with the million questions that gnawed at me from childhood.  He had sat down on the pool chair at my parent’s house, hidden in darkness as I sneaked out of my room to meet him.  Of all the characters who had called on me on the day of my Awakening, the Man in Black, or Walter Padick as he had called himself, was the one that had stuck most prominently in my memory.  A sorcerer from another dimension, he had talked of parallel words in six different universes.  He talked of recreating them all in the image of a great King, and spoke of ways to access these worlds through portals to a place he called Mid-World, with some of these portals being on Earth.  When I asked him to take me there, he simply looked at me with a hint of disdain and regret, saying I was “too old to be of any use there”

            “You left me with more questions than answers” I now said accusingly.

            “Some of your questions didn’t need answering” he replied.

            “They do” I said, looking him dead in the eye.

            “Ah, the big one” he exclaimed, placing his arms out and turning dramatically “why are the Ancients relegated to Earth?  You know, you keep asking those kinds of questions, one day they’re going to get you hurt”

            “I need to know”

            “You have everything you need to know.  You already know of the places on Earth where your daddy’s kind is not permitted to go”

            My eyes widened.  Father had always boasted of Earth having been his domain from the moment of his exile.  He claimed every square inch as his own. 

            “Oh, he hasn’t told you!” he exclaimed “you’ll have lots to talk about when he gets here.  Probably in no less than twenty-four hours, if you’re lucky.  Black hoods are probably flying on swift wings as we speak”

            I didn’t respond.  I knew he was right.  There was no way my father would let me out of his sight for too long. Even at the age of twenty-six, I still felt like a repressed little girl. More so now, standing before that great traveler, seeing his sympathetic gaze, no doubt thinking that I was a pitiful child.

            “You know, there is a place you can go where he can’t find you” he whispered after a short, unsettling silence.

            I looked up at him confused.  “A portal?”

            “Of sorts.  It’s one of the few places where you can disappear without having to step off-world”

            “Where?” I asked.

            “A little town in Maine, called Derry.  The place itself is nothing out of the ordinary, small and industrial but it is a direct link to my world.  You can stay there and hide for a few days.  It’s the only city in the Keystone World where your daddy and his minions are forbidden from entering”

            “Hmm” I mused.  I wanted to say no, but the prospect of being away from the ceaseless watch of black hoods was nearly irresistible.

            “How do I know you’re not tricking me into something?”

            “And risk daddy’s wrath?  Now why would I?  The ol’ serpent may be banished, but he sure as hell ain’t one to trifle with.  I promise, you just stay for a few days and come back in one piece.  I am the only one permitted to use that passage so you’ll be safe.  He’ll forgive you for dropping off his radar, like he always does”

            I watched him.  His face was serious.  He drank the rest of the beer, and placed the empty bottle in the waste bin. 

            Derry, Maine.   

            “I’ll go” I said.

 

End of Chapter 1

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos. They really mean a lot! :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pennywise and Luseres finally meet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks!! They really encourage me to write! :)

\-----

1.

_Welcome to Derry!_

 

 

            “Welcome to Derry Town House.  Do you have a reservation?”

            “I don’t.  Do you have rooms available?”

            “We do.  May I have your name please?”

            “Luseres Dietrich”

            The pretty young clerk gave me an odd look.

            “Could you spell that for me please?”

            I did.   She tapped away at her keyboard, every now and then looking up at me from the somewhat dated monitor.  She gave me a generic smile, the type that clerks learn to master wonderfully:  Those mechanical twitches of the corners of the mouth that serve only to reassure the costumer that they notice them there.

            “King, queen, or double, ma’am?”

            “King.  Do you have any suites?”

            “We do.  Our upper floor rooms have a sitting room and a nicely sized jacuzzi tub in the bathroom.   They have a balcony.  Not large, but they fit a lounge chair.  The suites face Kansas Street, looking toward Old Cape and the airport.  A pretty sight this time of year”

            “That will do.  Can you book me for a week?”

            “Ayuh, I can do that” the young woman replied, in her pleasant Yankee twang.  Her blonde hair was half pulled back by two butterfly hair clips, the ones I remembered wearing in my teens.  She looked to be no more than twenty-three. 

            “Summer job?” I asked, unable to help myself.  This time, her smile was genuine.

            “Every year” she said “I grew up here, but I go to NYU.  Been working at the Town House since I was 16”

            “You must love your home town.  I mean, to come back”

            “I do.  There is no other place like Derry for me.  Not in the whole world.  What brings you to Derry?   You’re here for business or pleasure?”

            “Solitude, I hope” I answered before realizing it.  Her brow furrowed in curiosity.  “I mean, I’ve been told by a…” _friend?  Hardly from it. The Man in Black who left me standing in the middle of Main Street and walked away into nothing?_  “…an acquaintance that is familiar with the place that he loves coming here” _Or through here._

            The clerk was studying me now, as if seeing me for the first time since I walked through the glass double doors and crossed the faded Turkish rug.

            “Wait… have I seen you somewhere?” she asked suddenly, and I felt my back go rigid.  _Shit._

            “Um… I d-don’t s-ee where or how-w” I stammered.  _God, please don’t let her watch the news_.  _She did go to NYU, did she not? She must have seen me when I appeared on the_ Today _show, being introduced as the new Christine_. I swallowed hard, and she must not have noticed my apprehension, because she shrugged.

            “Maybe you have a long-lost twin at NYU” she joked, and I forced myself to laugh along. 

            “You never know who may look like who” I said, returning the shrug and putting my hands in my pockets to keep them from shaking.

            “How are we looking at that room?” I asked, suddenly wanting nothing more than a bed and ten hours of sleep. 

            “All I need is you ID and credit card to put on file” she said pleasantly, folding her arms on the desk.

            I reached down into my purse and retrieved my wallet. I handed her my driver’s license and American Express.  After a minute or two of her tapping away, she went to fetch the papers from the printer.  I took the opportunity to look around.  I noticed a fireplace that hosted a real log, but no trace of it having been used in a long time.  Padded couches and plants adorned the lobby.  Above me, a mural was painted onto the ceiling, depicting images of logging men, perhaps from the town’s past.  I was still fixed upon the mural, hearing the sound of axes upon massive tree trunks, the shouts of “TIMBER!” and the sudden crack of trees snapping, the huge, earth-shaking thud as they…

            “Here you go” the clerk’s voice brought me back to reality, and I shook my head slightly.  For a second I had felt like I could really hear the sounds of this town, the echoes of long ago. 

            “How old is this town?” I asked as I took the pen from her hand and scribbled my signature.

            “Oh, going on past three hundred years.  Nothing really happens in Derry.  Not like in places such as Bangor close by.  I mean, business has boomed since I was a little girl, but not really big like some would expect.  I guess Derry is in its own little world, and for all its faults and antiquatedness, people prefer it that way.  By the way, is that even a word?”

            “Antiquatedness?” I chuckled.  I returned the pen and she handed me back my cards. 

            “Yeah”

            “You’re the NYU student.  You should know.  What’s your major?”

            “Classic Literature.  Hmm.  My professor would be having a cow right about now” she said seemingly dumbfounded and a little amused.  She stuck two card keys into the scanners, then placed them in a holder and handed them to me.  “Your room is 629, on our top floor.  When you get off the elevator, make a left and it is the second to the last room on your right.  Menus for room service and wifi password are in your room.  Dial 0 if you need to get in contact with the front desk.  I’ll be here till nine tonight.  Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

            “What time does the bar close?”

            “At ten on weekdays, same as the restaurant.  Yes, I know, a little too early, but I don’t make the rules” she laughed, seeing my surprise “but they serve great cocktails.  The bartender is a childhood friend of mine.  Gary is his name. Dinner food is not all that great, but the restaurant serves the most amazing breakfast.  Best bacon this side of Maine, if you don’t mind me saying.  Lunch is okay.  There are better restaurants that serve lunch and dinner at Mall Road.  The Jade of the Orient is one of my favorites.  Amazing chicken tenders.  Can’t get anything that good in New York”

            “Any other bars in town?”

            “Just one: The Falcon, by the bus station.  It usually pulls an exclusive type of crowd.  You know, LGBT.  But it’s the best place to get a drink, be in great company, and not have to worry about men groping you or putting something in your drink”

            “That’s good to know” I mused, and I reached for my purse and luggage.  Her eyebrows rose the moment she noticed my Louis Vuitton suitcase.  I looked completely out of place in a small New England town.

            “Let me call you a bell boy” she said, reaching for the phone.  I instantly waved the offer off.

            “Oh no, I got it.  I brought only one”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah.  Positive.” I had only taken two steps away when her voice stopped me again.

            “Um… can I ask you something?” Her voice shook with uneasiness.

            _Oh crap, she recognized me.  She’ll tell everyone and there go my plans for peace and quiet.  ‘Scarlett Gregorian’s in town!’ she’ll scream through the streets.  Is it too late to cancel my reservation?_ I steeled myself and turned with the most generic smile I could muster.

            “Sure”

            “Your last name.  Dietrich.  That’s German, right?”

            I sighed loudly.  My eyes closed at the flood of relief that washed through me.  She, on the other hand, took it differently.

            “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to intrude”

            “No, no.  I thought…. Never mind.  Yes, miss, it’s German.  My parents are”

            “Oh, but…” she stopped herself, and her cheeks flushed red.  She was embarrassed.  I knew exactly what she meant to ask, and I laughed. 

            “My adoptive parents are German” I explained.

            She looked at me with a mixture of relief and awe.  “Where are you from?  You look so… exotic”

            “Argentinian by birth but Armenian by blood” I stated matter-of-factly.

            “Wow.  Armenian,” she breathed the word as if it were a wonder.  “Don’t they have some of the most ancient and rare blood types on the planet?  I learned that in Ancient History class”

            “Oh, you have no idea.  By the way, antiquatedness is a real word” I smiled at her, winked, and made for the elevator.  She laughed heartily.

            “Welcome to Derry!” I heard her call out as the elevator doors closed.

 

 

2.

_The Falcon Bar_

 

            Sleep never came.  By 9 I was simply laying on top of the bedding, staring up at the intricate pattern on the ceiling.  There was something in the air, something I could not place.  I felt it the moment I dropped my bags and threw myself on the somewhat stiff bed.  I let out a sigh, breathed in… and there it was.  It seemed to hang heavily, not entirely a scent, but a feeling.  For some strange reason, I imagined a mortuary shroud that hung over the entire town.  I shook it off, laughing at myself for being an idiot.  I had lived under watchful eyes for so long I no longer knew how it felt to be totally alone.  But why wasn’t I overjoyed?  Shouldn’t I be jumping on the bed until my knees trembled like jelly and my legs gave way? Shouldn’t I be screaming from the balcony that I was free at last, laughing to the wind? 

            On a whim, I threw my legs over the bed and reached for my suitcase.  I donned a low-cut body suit, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and black pumps.  A few minutes later, my cosmetics were dumped all over the bathroom sink and I emerged ready for a night out.  I stuffed my room key, driver’s license and credit card into the hidden pocket inside my trench coat, threw it on, and left the suite.  It was 9:40 when I sat on one of the stools of the bar downstairs and ordered a cocktail.

            “You sure that’ll be enough?  We close in twenty” the bartender said when he put it down.

            “Gary, right?” I asked, taking a sip.  The hotel clerk wasn’t kidding, the cocktail was divine.

            “At your service.  Pleased to meet you" he said, shaking my hand.  "You’re new in town.  Stacy told me”

            “Stac…?”

            “What was it that I told you?” a voice behind me said.  I turned to find the clerk, now dressed for her own night out, walking up to the bar and sitting beside me.  Gary placed a Blue Moon in front of her.

            “Hello, Stacy” I smiled, tipping my cocktail.

            “Hello, Luseres” she replied, doing the same with her Belgian white.

            “No butterfly hairclips now, I see” I chuckled, motioning to her short halter dress, fishnet stockings, spike heeled booties, and leather coat.  Her blonde hair now hung loose, and she wore red lipstick.  She looked like a perfect Newyorker.

            “Not after 9” she winked “I would ask if your room was to your satisfaction, but I’m not on the clock”

            “That you would, and the room is fine.  No questionable white stains on my sheets”

            She and Gary laughed. 

            “So where are you going?” she asked.

            “Nowhere.  Just came down for a drink”

            Stacy and Gary gave me a look.

            “There’s no way you’re going to waste looking like a total knockout on the restaurant bar.  Come with us, we’ll take you to the Falcon.  Gary and I are actually going on a double date to the movies, but we can walk you there.  Get you introduced”

            “I know a few of my friends are there tonight.  Good fellas.  Come on, get some air.  You sure didn’t come all the way to Derry for a cocktail twenty minutes before the restaurant closes, now did ya?”

            I nodded, looking into my glass.  Perhaps hanging out with a bunch of gay guys, drinking merrily and laughing at their perfectly timed jokes was exactly what I needed.  Anything to lift the haze that seemed to settle over my head.

            “Sounds like fun” I said, downing the cocktail.

            The Falcon was everything that was promised.  From the moment I entered through the small door, there was a perfect ambiance of cheerful camaraderie.  The clientele was mostly exclusively male.  The few women there sat in pairs or were mixed in with the men.  A small platform in the corner hosted a small band.  The place was only half full.

            “Wait till midnight, this place will be packed” Stacy whispered as we made our way inside.    Gary motioned to three young men at the bar, and I was introduced to Jayson, Riley, and Paul.  Riley, an accountant from Bangor, was Gary’s cousin.  Jayson was a manager at one of the mall shops, and Paul said he lived in Portland.  He shook my hand almost too eagerly.  I could feel his transfixed gaze on me as Gary and Stacy said their goodbyes and left.

            “Oh my god” Paul finally burst after we were seated “it’s you”

            _Oh shit_.

            “Who?” I asked innocently. The other two looked at him confused.

            “Don’t pretend.  You’re Scarlett Gregorian.  Guys, she’s the girl in _The Phantom_.  We went to see it at the Merrill, remember?  It’s her.  Christine Daae”

            “Holy shit!” cried Riley, taking one good look at me “you ain’t kidding!”

            “Oh my god, I love you” swooned Jayson “you were a vision.   The way you sang _Think of Me_ , it was like… angels were blessing us from above” he clutched his chest and looked up as if entranced.

            I laughed.  “Thanks guys, but please, don’t tell anyone.  I came here to get away from it all”

            They all nodded in understanding.  “Your secret is safe with us” winked Riley.

            “Oh, and don’t call me Scarlett.  Call me Luseres.  Lus for short.  It’s my real name.”

            “I knew Scarlett Gregorian was a stage name.  Nobody has names like that nowadays” laughed Paul.

            The drinks flowed.  Conversation with those guys was effortless.  They loved pop culture, the arts, and were surprisingly well versed in Derry history. They loved their hometown, a sentiment I found was shared by all who seemed to feel fortunate enough to grow and live in Derry.  They talked of white Christmases, vibrant springs, and warm lazy summer days spent splashing around in the quarry or playing in a place they called The Barrens.  It wasn’t until they began talking about the social atmosphere of the town that their faces fell. 

            “A friend of ours was killed three months ago, not far from here.  Some homophobic assholes attacked him and his boyfriend” Riley finally said.

            “Oh no, I’m so sorry”

            “You see, Derry is not entirely… welcoming of us” Jayson explained “and there seems to be a lot of tragic events and freak crimes that happen every few years.  It’s weird, really”

            Paul nodded.  “In the eighties, a bunch of kids went missing.  Some bodies were recovered, some not.  They finally found out that it was a high school kid who went crazy and started killing his classmates”

            “Jesus” I winced.

            “It got so bad, they had a curfew and everything.  My momma told me that kids couldn’t be outside past 7.  And you know what the weirdest thing is?”

            I looked at them expectantly.

            “It never made national news.  Nothing that happens in Derry ever catches national attention.  It all just seems to be… buried” Jayson said.

            I stirred my vodka tonic, staring at the ice cubes clinking inside the glass.  If Derry was in fact a portal to another dimension, it was no wonder that weird shit would happen in the town.  I remembered how I felt back at the hotel, that heavy feeling that seemed to press me down, almost stifling.  It seemed like a presence looked down on Derry, manipulating and constricting.   I could almost _feel_ someone watching me.  I felt a shiver go down my spine, and I shuddered.

            “Well, it seems I picked the wrong town to hide in” I joked, almost sarcastically.

            All three laughed.  “Nah, you’re ok.  Aside from the homophobia and missing kids, Derry is the best place to be” said Paul.

            “What was your friend’s name?”

            “Adrian.  Adrian Mellon”

            I raised my glass.  “To Adrian”

            “To Adrian!” they echoed, and to my surprise, everyone in the bar raised their glasses. 

            “We love you forever, Adrian!” a guy in the back shouted, and we all downed our drinks. 

            “Well, enough of that sad talk.  Let’s drink!” exclaimed Riley, and he called for a refill.  Elmer, the owner, was a kind, older man who poured and mixed drinks to perfection.  He flirted with me, asked constantly if I was enjoying myself, and made sure to engage in small talk with every patron that walked through his door. 

            By midnight, the place was full and alive.  The band now played today’s hits and a space was cleared in the middle for dancing.  I was literally pulled by my new three friends, but before I knew it, I was singing Rihanna songs at the top of my lungs, and danced until my feet could go no more.  I ended the night barefoot at the pool table, kicking everyone’s ass at 8-ball.

            Silently I thanked Stacy, the pretty hotel clerk, and her friend Gary for walking me here.

 

3.

_The Call of the Siren_

            2:45 a.m.

 

            We walked down the clean, pristine boardwalk that ran down the length of the Canal.  Antique light posts lined down the path, bathing the small park in ethereal light.  It was now close to 3 a.m.  The bar had closed down at 2, and without a moan from the packed establishment, everyone had simply gathered up their things and filed out in small groups, dispersing into the darkened town.  For a moment I wondered how everyone seemed to simply feel at ease, considering the murder that happened recently and the hostility that seemed to be prominent in the small town.  The memory of Adrian Mellon was alive in the bar, but once outside in the crisp night air, the danger was forgotten.  Riley, Jayson, and I chatted away.  Paul walked ahead, dancing down the boardwalk. 

            “’Cause Uptown Funk will give it ya… Saturday night and we in the spot…” he belted as he stinky-legged past benches and rose bushes.

            “Shut up, you twit” Riley called out.  Paul gave him the finger.  We all laughed.

            We eventually reached a roofed bridge built out of red painted beams.  The laughing, singing, and stinky-legging stopped abruptly.

            “They call it the Kissing Bridge” Jayson said “It’s for carving names and sucking face”

            “And bumping uglies” Paul said, but there was no humor in his voice.

            “This is where it happened” Riley said, barely above a whisper “they threw him down and…” his voice broke.

            I examined the bridge.  It was something out of stock photography.  A perfect, triangular roof topped the structure and window shutters lined the length of the bridge.  Beneath, the sound of gentle running water drifted up like a lullaby.  It was impossible to imagine that the scene of such a heinous, horrific murder had happened at such a beautiful location.  Or in this town.  In the short hours since my arrival, the thought had already been established in my mind that Derry was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. 

            I walked up to the entrance of the bridge, and noticed the small lights that were placed strategically at three equally-spaced places on the roof.  For a second, I wondered what was on the other side…

            “Lus…” Jayson said.  I turned to him and noticed his hands in his pockets and his feet shuffling on the gravel.  “Could you… sing?  Here?  Please?”

 

            I smiled at the thought.  It was a beautiful sentiment.

            “What would you like me to sing?” I asked softly.

            “Think of Me” Paul called.   All three looked at one another and nodded in agreement.

I walked to the edge where the boardwalk and the entrance to the bridge met, oblivious to the fact that I was standing on the exact spot where Adrian Mellon had leaned over backwards before plunging down to meet his greatest horror.  I drew in a breath, feeling the cool stillness of the Maine night air, looking up at the star-studded sky.  Orion, the hunter, was most prominent.  I looked within to the far recesses of my mind, that locked vault of painful memories from whence my singing voice came.  I was immediately engulfed by that fully familiar yet inexplicable sadness that had walked beside me since my childhood, and I let 12-year-old Luseres come through.

“ _Think of me_ _  
__Think of me fondly  
__When we've said goodbye_ _  
__Remember me_ _  
__Once in a while_ _  
__Please promise me you'll try…”_

            They were crying, all three of them.  Riley choked up a sob, Paul dabbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and Jayson placed an arm around each.  As I sang, I became aware of shuffling in the bushes around and under the bridge.  Pairs of heads popped up in the dark:  Couples, startled by the sudden song that drifted in the air, had ceased their lustful exertions and looked around curious.  I sang louder.

 _“We never said our love was evergreen_ _  
_ _Or as unchanging as the sea_ _  
_ _But if you can still remember_ _  
_ _Stop and think of me…”_

            I walked down the boardwalk slowly, stopping ever so often at the railing and singing out into the night.  Below, the Canal hummed gently, the soft rush of water that drifted upwards and carried my voice downstream.  And then, I slowly felt the air change, as if a vibration seemed to echo back at me from deep within the ground.  Maybe it was Adrian, or maybe, no, it felt different.  It felt… _Inhuman_.  Like a deep, groaning rumble that reached out to me from the other side of the Canal. 

“ _Think of all the things we've shared and seen_ _  
__Don't think about the way things might have been…”_  

            As the lyrics poured out of me of their own accord, I began to survey the area around me.  My eyes were fixed on the opposite bank, on the silhouettes of trees and plant growth.  There was nothing but black and grey shadows.  I shook away the feeling, and then, as I drew in a breath to sing the next stanza, the song drowned in my throat.

            There was someone watching me on the other side, from a semi-hidden position, crouched between two bushes. I could see the paleness of his face from where I stood.  No, his skin was more than pale, it was ghastly white.  He seemed to be smiling, then I realized that the grin was only painted on his features, a smile that from the distance seemed to reach his eyes in two undulating lines.  Tufts of wispy red hair protruded from his head.  The white clothes that covered his entire body seemed to shine like silver in the darkness.  With a gasp, I realized it was a clown.  He waved at me.

            “Lus?”  it was Jayson who pulled me out of my shock.  I let out a long breath, and found my voice again.

“ _Think of me_ _  
__Think of me waking silent and resigned_ _  
__Imagine me trying too hard  
__To put you from my mind…”_

            I was leaning slightly over the railing, and unbeknownst to me, I was no longer singing to the three men behind me, I was singing to my secret audience on the opposite bank. I was transfixed, feeling myself being pulled by a magnet.  I belted out the last stanza, letting my voice float straight toward him as if it were a siren song.

“ _Recall those days_ _  
__Look back on all those times_ _  
__Think of the things we'll never do_ _  
__There will never be a day_ _  
__When I won't think of you!…_ ”

            The clown stood slowly.  The silver white silk of his suit glistened in the darkness and as he came to full height, I took notice of the single red balloon in his right hand.  He stretched out his hand and offered it to me as I brought the song to its melancholic yet triumphant climax.  

 _"Flowers fade  
_ _The fruits of summer fade_ _  
_ _They have their seasons  
_ _So do we_ _  
_ _But please promise me that sometimes_ _  
_ _You will think…_

            I paused for a second, and felt my heart swell.       

“ _Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ho!_ _  
__Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ho!_ _  
__Ho-oh-oh-oh-ohhhh-_ _of me_!”

            The clown let go of the red balloon with a most exaggerated gesture.  He twirled and threw his hands up in the air in a show of pure delight.  I curtsied to him, and when I looked up, he was gone. 

            Only the balloon remained, floating upwards into the darkness.

            “That was amazing!” Riley cheered.  Paul and Jayson clapped, and they all embraced me. 

            “Did you see him?” I asked.

            “Who?” asked Paul.

            “The clown.  He was really into it” I laughed, looking up at the sky. The red balloon had now drifted out of view.

            All three looked at me completely puzzled.

            “What clown?”

 

End of Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pennywise and Luseres are finally face to face!

1.

_Step into the Light_

 

 _Glug, glug_.

            The water funneled into the drain as I stepped out of the Jacuzzi tub.  I patted my body dry and then folded the tower, placed it on top of the toilet seat cover, and sat to lather the lotion onto my body.  Its sweet almond vanilla scent filled the entire bathroom, and I let out a sigh of bliss.

            “Nada mejor que esto” I purred, not even realizing I had spoken in my birth tongue. 

            _Nothing can be better than this_.

            I now stood fully naked in front of the sink.  Taking a paper towel from the stack provided by the townhouse, I wiped the fog from the mirror that ran the length of the wall.  For a moment I stood there, staring at my reflection. 

            My mother’s reflection.

            “Ay, pero si son igualitas!” _She looks exactly like you_! people always exclaimed upon seeing us.  As a child, I couldn’t believe that one day I would grow to look anything like her.  She was unbelievably beautiful, with her raven black hair that tumbled in waves down to her waist, her piercing green eyes, and magnificent olive skin.  She was the epitome of grace, always boasting perfect manners and basking in the goodwill of all who met her.  Men parted for her when she passed, women stared with awe and envy, and I wanted nothing more than to be like her.

            “Always look down, Luseres” she instructed me as we came to pray in the town’s cathedral every morning and every evening.  “We cannot dare to look at the Omnipotent.  We are vile, cursed, and we don’t deserve His forgiveness.  Now, fold your hands, and say your prayers”

            She was exceedingly pious, my mother.  For her the cathedral was home, just as much as the one bedroom duplex in the center of town.  She always did penance, gave alms to the poor, kissed the hand of the priest, and recited Hail Mary’s as her fingers counted nimbly on her rosary.  Looking at her from the corner of my eye, I could see the tear glistening as it rolled down her cheek, could hear the tremble in her whispers, and watched as she gently hit her chest, repentant of some vile sin. She acted as though she were the one at fault, but deep down I knew:  Something was terribly wrong with me. 

            I could feel it in the way she always made sure I was blessed with holy water, felt it in the way the priest’s hands trembled with fear when he made the sign of the cross upon my forehead.  I could feel it in the way she made sure there was a statue of the Holy Virgin in my room.  “She will protect you,” she said when she tucked me into bed, then laid down next to me.  Her sleep was always restless as though expecting some danger to suddenly swoop down on us.

            She never spoke of my father.  All I knew was that he was a soldier who died during one of the riots in Buenos Aires in the late eighties.  I had no picture of him, and she wept if I ever tried to ask.  At night I had nightmares of bombs exploding, of blood flowing down city streets, of red eyes under black hood that stood menacingly around my bed.  Every night when I woke up screaming, she would fall at the feet of the Virgin and pray for the evil to be kept at bay.

            “He can’t have her!” she cried out, pleading with the higher powers.

            I slammed my fist into the counter, fighting back the tears.  I tried to still my shaking body as I looked into the mirror of the past.  I was the image of my mother, but I had none of the virtues that made her perfect in my eyes.  I was a vile thing, selfish and prideful, seeking only to satisfy my every whim.  Had she lived, she would have been revolted by the monster I had become.

            _I guess in the end he did have you_ , she would have said with disgust.

            I stood up straight and took a deep breath, swallowing the memories.  With shock, I realized that I hadn’t thought of my mother in a very long time.  I had drowned her memory beneath a frozen layer of apathy that served to numb the pain.  Complacence and the joys of this world had only pushed her back to the recesses of my subconscious, to the point where she became only a shadow, a faint image of some distant past.  But in the few hours since setting feet on Derry I had thought of her already twice, the first being on the bridge when I looked within to bring my voice forth.

            Why?

            Was it the effects of the portal the Man in Black claimed this town to be?  Or was it due to the powerful force that seemed to conceal it from the rest of the world?

            I proceeded with my nightly facial ritual, then let my hair down.  I threw on my silk robe and walked into the bedroom.  I turned off all the lights, leaving only the lamp on the bedside table still on.  I pulled back the covers of the bed and as I moved to climb onto it, I heard the faint sound of laughter.  I stopped and looked toward the door, hoping to see the shadow of someone passing by, but there was no movement in the hall.  Then I heard it again.

            It was a high pitched, almost childlike cackle.

            My brow furrowed when I realized it came from outside my window.  I rushed to the balcony and looked out, but there was no one there.  I reached for the curtain to shut it, but instead my hand clutched the fabric in shock.

            A red balloon drifted gently, directly in front of my window.  It moved slowly as if floating.  As I looked, it passed in front of a building with a flag on its roof, and I noticed that the wind blew in the opposite direction.  With a gasp, I realized that the balloon was drifting _against_ the wind, then a deeply unsettling thought passed through my mind:

            _What if it’s the same balloon from the clown at the Canal?_

            “You’re going batshit crazy Lus” I chuckled as I watched it drift down Main Street and disappear.  I drew the curtain closed and turned back to the bed.

            Then my blood froze.

            The clown was crouched on top of the dresser.  He sat perfectly still, with his eyes fixed on me.  The dim light from the bedside table caused him to be bathed in shadow, but I could still make out the intricate pattern of his white silver suit.  I took in the orange pompoms and red cords that adorned his torso and boots, the tassels at his ankles and wrists from which bells hung, the thick ruffles of his collar.  Looking up I contemplated his face.  He had a large bulbous head caked with grease paint and talcum powder.  His lips were a bright red with two extending lines that crossed his eyes and peaked above his brow.  The tip of his nose was painted with the same bright red, and his eyes… _dear God, his eyes_.  They were two raging flames that burned and sparkled in the near darkness.

            He was… _mesmerizing_.        

            “Hello little songbird.  Remember me?” he purred.  His voice was a mixture between raspy and shrill, a sort of disjointed infantile yet masculine voice.  It was unsettling, but at the same time perfectly reasonable and rather pleasant.

            “Who are you?” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  His eyes danced over me, looking me up and down as though I were an odd creature.

            “Are you an Ancient?”

            No answer.  His head moved side to side, studying me.

            “Are you an Elemental?”

            Silence.  More inquisitive looks.

            “A… Glamour?”

            He cocked his head at that, then he lifted a finger and wiggled it.

            “Ding, ding, ding!  Congratulations, you are kee-rrect!” he squealed. 

            I took a step backwards. “What do you call yourself?”

            His yellow eyes twinkled and his mouth opened in a wide smile.  I noticed the two large bunny-like front teeth which gave him a childlike appearance. 

            “I’m Pennywise” he purred. 

            “Pennywise” I breathed, feeling the way the name rolled off my tongue.  I was completely taken by him.  There was something fascinating and yet dreadful about him.  I took a couple of steps towards him.

            “I never met a glamour before.  I am…”

            “Luseres Vardanyan” he blurted out. 

            I felt my body go ice cold. He had said my birth name.

_My mother’s name._

            “How did you know?” I gasped.  When he didn’t reply I took a step towards him, trying to catch a clear view of him.  “Show yourself.  Step into the light”

            He jumped off the dresser and began sauntering towards me, slightly slouched and with his hands clasped together.  _Like an animal walking up looking for food_ , the thought crossed through my mind.  He stopped at arm’s length, moving his head side to side, smiling at me.  I stood my ground.

            “Oh, I know a bit about you” he singsonged “but I wanna know more”

            “If you’re trying to intimate me, it won’t work” I chuckled “you’re not the first shapeshifter I’ve come across”

            He laughed deep in his throat, but there was no humor in his eyes.  His gaze was piercing, searching… _seeing_. 

            “Oh, but none like old Pennywise I’m sure” he crooned.  His hand slowly reached out to me, ghosting over my face.  “I can see you. I can _smell you_.  I can taste every drop of fear that seeps into your bones when you lay awake at night. I know why you always leave the light on.  You’re afraid of the dark” 

            I laughed long and hard.  He laughed along with me as though it were a great joke.

            “Afraid? Me?  Please little clown, I’m an Untouchable.  I can walk through fire and not a single hair on my head will burn.  Nothing can harm me.  Not even you” I said, crossing my arms.

            “Untouchable? Ooh that’s exciting!” he exclaimed, shaking his shoulders and making his bells jingle. “If you can’t be touched, then how can I do THIS?!”

            I screamed.  His large gloved hand curled tightly around my throat and a searing pain exploded in my head.   I felt him push into my mind, and as much as I tried to fight against the intrusion, he easily overpowered me. I felt panic rising in my throat, and I clawed and tried to break free of his neck-breaking hold.

            Suddenly he let go, and I nearly crumbled to the floor. 

            “Guess you just got touched” he teased, and began laughing maniacally.  I took the opportunity and made a dash for the door, but he bested me by leaping in front of me, blocking my way.

            “You can’t hurt me, you can’t hurt me” I kept muttering in dismay as I clumsily stumbled backwards and he mirrored my every movement.  We danced around the room until my back hit the dresser and I couldn’t stop the cry of alarm that escaped my throat.  _Fuck_.  I was trapped.  His hands roughly grabbed my face again and he held me in place as he pushed his nose into my neck and inhaled.

            “Hmm…” he moaned, drinking me in “what you are running from, Lus?”

            I felt my mind go numb as he entered me again. 

            “There is something… oh yes, I see it… wait, what’s that? Hmm… daddy has to do things… dirty things…”

            “Get out of my head” I snarled.

            “I can help you, little Lus.  I can make you disappear.  You will just simply…float away”

            I opened my eyes and looked up at him, fighting against the pain that throbbed in my temples.  Mastering every ounce of strength, I reached forward and curled my hands around his neck, right through the ruffled collar, and with my mind I pushed back against him.  If my demise was about to come at the hands of an otherworldly horror, I was not going out without a fight.

            “Show me what you are!” I demanded.  He growled down at me and pushed further in. 

            “SHOW ME!”

            And then I felt it, the electrifying pull of a magnet followed by a jolt as though two pieces were forcefully thrust together. I looked deep into his yellow eyes, he looked deep into mine, and then I saw…

 

            … _There was a well, an old well, and were seven blurry figures poised to strike as the clown cowered in fear… there was a paper boat racing toward its tragic destiny down a gutter swollen with rain… there were mangled bodies of children… countless bodies all piled in a bloody heap of limbs and shredded flesh… and then there were flashing images of a small budding town receding back into its past until it was no more than a small cluster of log cabins… and yet the pages of history kept flying backwards until there was an explosion in a darkened, prehistoric sky, and something came crashing down to Earth… and then… I saw It… there was darkness, and yet in the midst of that darkness were three swirling orange lights that raged and mewled, writhing in ravenous hunger…_

            “It was you” I whispered “you feed on them”

            The clown recoiled as if burned, and the link was broken.   

            “You come from the darkness behind the universe, from the Prim” I said with realization. “Now I understand.  That’s why this town is a portal, because it is your feeding ground.  I’ve heard of your kind and where you hail from, but I never believed you to be real.  They said that all eldritch creatures were dead, and yet here you are.  You must be the last one left”

            He stared at me for what seemed like forever.  A thin line of drool began to flow copiously from the corner of his mouth.    

            “Who brought you here?” he asked “are you an agent of the Other?”

            “No.  I was brought by the Man in Black.  He calls himself Walter Padick”

            “Man in black” he repeated, looking away as if contemplating the name.  I could almost see his thoughts racing in that huge head of his as he nodded, staring off absentmindedly.  “Robert Gray… Walter Padick” he murmured, barely above a breath.  Then his face lit up with realization and he turned to me once more, taking my face in his hands.  This time his touch was not rough or probing, yet not exactly gentle.  His demeanor was no longer antagonizing, but curious again.

            “You're a gift.  A most opportune gift” he purred.  He touched my hair, traced the contours of my face, and then I felt his thumb brushing over my lips.  His eyes danced over me, drinking me in.  Then to my surprise he brought his face close to mine, dangerously close.  He nuzzled my nose and I felt drool drip onto my chin. And then, for the first time, I smelled him.  The cacophony of smells that exploded in my senses was both pungent and delectable, like a toxic potion of wet earth, of hallowed ground defiled by the falling of the rain. I could smell the circus, with its jumble of buttered popcorn and all manners of tempting confections.  I smelled time on him, like the smell of vintage fabric inside some old granny’s wooden chest.  But beneath those scents, there was something tangy and endearingly sweet that I could taste it.  It was the unmistakable scent of lemon drops covered in sugar, my favorite candy as a child.  Overwhelmed, I buried my nose in the ruffles of his collar, wanting nothing more than to devour the source of that smell.

            So captivated was I, so lost to this new wealth of sensations, that I did not notice when the ties of my robe slid open.  In the throes of my haze I felt a gentle tickling sensation that sent shards of heat surging to my head and the tips of my toes.  Had I enough sense of reality I would have realized that the pompoms of his suit were rubbing against my skin, particularly the one at his waist which was brushing against the juncture of my legs. 

            I let out a sound that was either a whine or a moan, and felt his body vibrate as he growled deep in his throat.  His hands were at my hips, pressing into my skin as he held me against him.  He was so firm, so strong…

            “Never had a mate before” I heard him whisper.

            I felt myself snap out of my trance.  I gasped loudly upon seeing my naked state and yanked my robe closed. I quickly looked away, ashamed, horrified… and confused. 

            “Open your mouth” I heard him order “let me see”

            “What?” I asked incredulous.

            I gasped when he parted my lips and looked inside.  “Hmmm… mmm…oh yes” he mumbled as he turned my head this way and that way, opening my mouth wider and trying to see deep down into my throat.  He swooped in closer and sniffed.

            “What are you doing?!” I babbled as his fingers prodded my mouth.  He let go and I shrank back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. 

            “What the fuck was that?!” I yelled.  He reached out again and this time he squeezed my jaw.  I winced when I felt him pushing against its hinges as if testing out its strength.

            “You’re strong” he remarked with satisfaction “they’ll do just nicely”

            Then to my astonishment, he jumped and clapped in sheer delight, laughing so hard it sounded like a hoarse shriek.

            “What do you want from me?” I breathed “you obviously don’t want to eat me” 

            He kissed me.  It was the most awkward and clumsy kiss.  His lips were pursed together and he pressed them against mine.  He pulled back with a loud smacking sound and then he pinched my cheeks.

            “Don’t go anywhere, little songbird.  The fun has only just begun”

            And with that, his eyes glowed blindingly bright.  I took one look, and the last thing I registered was the way my knees buckled and the rustle of silk as his strong arms scooped me up.

            Then, darkness.

 

 End of Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A step towards the future, by glancing into the past....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING*** - The following chapter contains mature content. It features graphic depictions of sexual acts and dark, thematic elements that are unsuitable for young and/or sensitive readers.

 

1.

_What Dreams May Come_

 

            _That night the clown came to me once more.  I dreamed that he stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at me.  Red balloons floated around the room as he beckoned me, extending his hand out.  I rose from the bed, and as I pulled the covers back, I became strangely aware that I was clothed in a most peculiar and familiar ensemble.  White tights covered my legs and on my feet were a pair of two shiny patent leather shoes.  I took in the strap that crossed them, the delicate buckle that fastened them.  As I looked up at myself, I noticed the ruffles of the stiff petticoat beneath the royal blue of my velvet dress.  I took in the gold buttons down the front, the folded collar, the puffiness of the sleeves._

_I knew the ensemble.  I had worn it before._

_Alarmed, my hands went up to my head.  I gasped upon finding the same birthday tiara that had adorned my head that day long ago, on the day I turned seven years old. I held a stick of fluffy, rainbow colored cotton candy on one hand and a familiar clown doll in the other._

_Suddenly, the room changed.  The balloons bobbed up toward the ceiling, revealing the crowded street of a small Argentinian town.  I stood on the edge of the sidewalk, looking out to the other side, where my mother was buying a marionette of Pizzar_ _ín, my favorite childhood clown, from one of the circus vendors.  Next to her stood Pennywise, facing me._

_“No” I rasped, feeling my throat tighten to the point where breathing was a struggle “why are you doing this?!”_

_He leered at me.  “Show me your fears, little Lus”_

_The tangy sweet scent of sugar coated lemon drops filled my nose again. I shook it away, focusing on the way my mother thanked the vendor, placing the coins in his hand.  Then she turned towards me, smiled that beautiful smile of hers, and moved to cross the street._

_“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed in horror._

_A truck zoomed past, and there was a dull, sickening thud._

_I fell to my knees as the town faded away and I was once again in darkness.  The red balloons floated down, surrounding me.  I burst into tears, and then I felt two gloved hands take mine.  I looked up to see Pennywise sitting on his knees in front of me.  His mouth was turned downwards in feigned sympathy, but his eyes twinkled with fiendish satisfaction._

_“Poor, poor little Lus.  Daddy lied to you” he whispered, and I saw his teeth morph into rows and rows of pointed daggers.  Exhausted and confused, I made no attempt at self-defense when I saw his jaw become unhinged and the three swirling deadlights in his core screeched as they pulsated towards me…_

           

 

2.

_An Awakening_

 

             My eyes flew open and I shot up, waking up with a jolt.  I looked around the room, looking for the subtlest trace of movement or sound that could escape from any corner or nook.  But I was alone.  Looking down I realized I was positioned on the center of the bed, and the robe I had worn the night before was pulled down my arms almost completely, leaving me totally exposed.  As I looked down at my naked state, I became aware of a stinging sensation on my left side.  I gasped when I took in the long, thin, jagged red line than ran from right beneath my left breast down to the middle of my thigh.  Not deep enough to draw blood, but just enough to cut skin.

            A claw mark.

            With trembling hands I inspected the rest of my body, but there were no other marks nor any signs of having been taken advantage of.  I quaked with fear at the thought of lying unconscious and helpless as the clown’s hands roamed freely over my body, leaving a calling card that promised further and perhaps even more intrusive encounters.  I felt a chill go up my spine as I remembered the way his yellow eyes had pierced into mine, shattering the thick walls of defense that sheltered my troubled psyche as though they were made of thin paper.

            I had come into the territory of a most powerful monster.

            I jumped from the bed and grabbed my suitcase, throwing it open on the bed.  I yanked my clothes from the dresser and tossed them inside.  Then I ran to the bathroom to grab my toiletries, and I stopped when I saw the single red balloon tied to the sink.  On its shiny red surface were the words in white: RUNNING AWAY LUS?

            _Oh shit_.

            I grabbed my cosmetics bag and dashed back to the bedroom, then I let out a cry.  My suitcase was gone.  The drawers of the dresser were scattered all over the floor and on the mirror were the words scribbled in childlike writing in what looked like fresh blood:  **dOnTcHA wANnA kNOw tHE tRutH?**

            I let the bag fall to the floor, not caring if anything broke.  There was a numbness that began settling in my bones as I observed the red blood dripping from the letters, marring my reflection.  There was a reason why I was brought here.  There was a reason why I _wanted_ to come here. 

            _Poor, poor little Lus.  Daddy lied to you._

            He was right.  I had always known.  Deep down I knew that I, the very daughter of the Great Serpent, was the one who was most deceived.  Running back home would solve nothing.  I needed answers, and it seemed like the creature in Derry had them.

            “Alright clown, you win” I said aloud.

            There was the sound of shuffling behind me, and when I turned, my clothes from the night prior were on the bed.  Next to them were my pair of Chuck Taylor’s.

            “Not giving me back my suitcase, eh? Sneaky little bugger”

            A few minutes later I left my room.  Unbeknownst to me, the bloody letters on the mirror disappeared as I closed the door behind me.

 

3.

_Trip Down Memory Lane_

 

            After a cup of coffee at the Townhouse restaurant, my first stop was the travel agency on Main Street.  There were posters of people rafting down rapids with the caption _DISCOVER DERRY!_ plastered on the windows.  Five minutes later, I realized I had walked into the wrong place after being littered with tourism pamphlets and offers of Maine tours.  They knew nothing of the town, but pointed me in the direction of the library.  I almost wanted to hit myself for not thinking of it first.

            The Derry Public Library was a most quaint structure.  There was something nostalgically attractive about it, with its original western wing made out of old concrete walls lined with wooden beams painted a dark blue.   The newly built glass hallway and modern halls of the east wing hosted the fiction section and the checkout area.  I entered through the glass doors and was met with an almost sepulchral silence.  The young lady at the checkout desk nodded at me in greeting before gathering a tall stack of folders and walking into an office.  I made out the name _Mike Hanlon, Chief Librarian_ engraved in the golden plaque on the door.  I walked to the information computer station and typed in “history of Derry” into the search bar.  Minutes later I was making my way down shelves, scanning the codes until my fingers stopped on a thick, blue tome.

            I sat on one of the couches in the reading area and opened the book _A History of Old Derry_.  I shuffled through page after page of grainy photos and Xerox scans of headlines dating back to the late 1700’s.  They were all memories of tragedies, gruesome unsolved murders, old newspaper illustrations of the town’s founding.  I continued to look through the pages until my eyes went wide and my hands clasped the book tightly.  There was a black and white picture with the caption: _Easter Egg Hunt celebration at the Derry Iron Works, April 3 rd 1908_.  In the middle of the photo, half hidden in the crowd, was a circus wagon.  The name Pennywise the Dancing Clown was painted around a portrait of the very same creature who had visited me the night before.  On the next page was the same clown, blurry and out of focus, standing behind a group of children holding Easter eggs.  I flipped the page, and there was a scan of the Derry Herald dating to April 4th.  On its front page was the headline: EASTER EXPLOSION KILLS 88 CHILDREN, 102 TOTAL. 

            “You had a feast that day, didn’t you?” I muttered under my breath.

            I jumped when I heard someone behind me shush me, and I looked back apologetically to an elderly woman who fixed me with a stern stare.  I turned back to the book and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.  The same bloody childlike writing from the mirror was now scribbled all over the open book with the message: **ThesE aRe noT tHe AnSweRs yOU’rE looKinG fOr.**

            I shut the book closed and took in deep breaths to slow down the frantic beating in my chest.  The checkout slip slipped out from the back cover and as I slid it back into the sleeve I read the name of the last person who had checked it out: Ben Hanscom, 1989.

            27 years ago.

            I rose to put the book back on its shelf, and as I made my way out of the aisle, I noticed a book protruding from its shelf.  I pulled it out, frowning at the title.

            “What the fuck?” I whispered, looking up to the row I had pulled it out of.  The entire row of books was on the lineages of ancient rulers, from Egypt, Babylon, and Sumer.  Feeling a sense of dread, I walked back to the information station and typed in: “Nephilim. Genesis 6”  The computer loaded for a few seconds, and then my blood froze when the only result given was the book in my hand.  The book that had miraculously been placed for me to find:

            _Incest in the Ancient World:  How the Importance of Pure Bloodlines Built Lasting Dynasties_.

            I heard laughter behind me, and when I turned there was no one there, but there was a red balloon tied to the checkout desk.  I looked back down at the tome in my hand, felt for the wallet in my coat pocket, and made my way to it.

 

4.

_The Standpipe_

 

            “I’ll have the bourbon chicken please” I said as I gave the menu back to the waiter.  I sat in the furthest booth inside the Jade of the Orient on Mall Road.  The booth has half hidden in the far corner of the line of boxed stalls that ran the length of the windows.  I took a long drink of my New England iced tea and then took the book from my lap.  I placed it on the table, looked around me nervously as though I was opening a copy of Hustler, and began on the first page.

 

            _The ancient mythos spoke of the sun and the moon mating to make man… brother and sister engaging in creation… the ancient Sumerian legends spoke of great rulers… descendants of the sun and the moon… who kept their lineages pure by producing heirs with those of their closest relations…brothers and sisters, fathers and daughters… a custom kept alive for hundreds and even thousands of years by the Egyptian pharaohs… the Nephilim were the guardians, giants produced by the mating of exiled celestial beings with the daughters of men… queens and princesses of the Sumerian bloodlines were given as gifts to these beings… until a great flood was sent to eradicate the offspring of such abominable unions… but the legendary bloodline of human and celestial was thought to the have survived… a small string of DNA hidden deep in the genetic makeup of the wife of Cam… and giants continued to plague the Earth until they mysteriously disappeared from history…_

            “Your bourbon chicken ma’am”

            I gasped loudly and shrank back, startling the waitress and almost causing her to drop my lunch on my lap. 

            “I am so sorry” I rasped.

            “Must be a really good book” she laughed nervously as she placed the plate in front of me.

            “Tragic, mostly” I chuckled, but there was no humor in my voice.

            “Will you want dessert ma’am?” she asked politely.

            “No thanks” I answered.

            “Enjoy your lunch” she quipped, and walked away.

            The chicken was exceptional.  Tender chunks of white meat were perfectly steeped with sweet and sour sauce laden with whiskey.  As I ate, I watched the townsfolk going to and fro in their daily routine of small city life, oblivious to the monster in their midst, and the fact that they were Its own private food supply.

            The bill came.  I wrote down a generous tip and signed my name.  I placed my wallet back into my coat pocket and ripped the plastic wrapping of my fortune cookie.  I took a bite out of one corner and as I chewed on the bland, crunchy wafer, I opened the strip of paper within.  I read the line, and then I began to gag convulsively as I choked.

            _Are you gonna let Daddy fuck you?_

            The waitress and a couple of patrons close by reached me in an instant.  I felt a couple of hard violent blows on my back and I began to gasp.  The entire restaurant was now staring as I almost coughed up a lung.  I was offered water, and after ten minutes that felt an eternity, I was finally able to speak and thank the large burly man who undoubtedly had left a bruise on my back.  Embarrassed, I grabbed my book and left the restaurant.

            I coughed all the way down Mall Road until I reached the Kissing Bridge.  As I approached the domed entrance I stopped when I saw Pennywise standing on the other end, occupied with something as he reached high up the wall of the bridge.  I strained to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, and I frowned with confusion upon realizing that he was carving the wall of the bridge.  Suddenly, he turned towards me, waved, and scampered off laughing.

            “Hey! Wait up!” I called out, running to him, but he was gone.

            I looked up at the spot where he was carving, and I felt my heart skip a beat or two upon seeing the same childlike scribble that had followed me all day now engraved into the wood:

 

**PeNnyWiSE**

**aNd**

**LuS**

           

            I laughed, long and hard.  Laughed until my sides hurt and the coughing came back in hacking sobs.  Tears poured from my eyes and I feared I would lose my chicken meal over the railing.  It took great effort to calm my giggles but when they finally subsided I noticed the red balloon that was tied further down the railing.  I walked towards it, greatly amused, and upon reaching it, I noticed another one tied up to a bush further away.  As I made my way down, more balloons popped up.  Pennywise was leading me somewhere.  He guided me down a street called Kansas until the last balloon appeared next to a large Standpipe.  I walked towards the water tower, hopeful to catch the clown and finally make him talk, but as I got nearer, I noticed that it was deserted.  I walked around the large circular structure, peeking into bushes and behind benches, until I heard muffled sounds coming from behind the tower, somewhere in the overgrowth of its rear entrance.  As I got closer, the sounds became clear moans and groans.  The overgrowth rustled as I heard hard huffing and puffing.  And then I saw…

            There was a man and a woman hiding in the overgrowth, fucking hard.  She was bent over a fallen tree and he stood behind her, pounding into her.  I could hear the messy wet sloshing that mixed in with her wanton moans as she held on to the tree with one hand and touched herself with the other, bringing herself to climax.  I held my breath at the lewd sight, watching the way his muscles rippled as he buried himself inside her over and over again.  I couldn’t make out their faces, but I could see the sweat glistening on their bodies.  Her black hair hung over her face and her breasts bounced happily.  I stifled a giggle and turned to walk away, but then I heard her speak:

            “Fuck me Daddy”

            Just then, she flipped her hair backwards, and I was looking at myself getting rammed from behind.  The face of the man peeked from behind the bush, and I screamed upon seeing the face of my father looking back at me.  He licked his lips in the most obscene way and began to fuck the woman, myself, even harder.

            “How do you think your mother made you?” he panted “how do you think I made HER?”

            I ran.  The book I had checked out from the library fell from my hands as I fled from the horror of what I had seen.  A crushing panic settled in my chest as I scrambled up the small hill.  I was sobbing violently but no tears came as I tore through the small park toward the main road.  When I finally reached the busy street I skidded to a sudden stop.

            Pennywise stood directly on the other side, facing me.  The cars, the town, the people disappeared and it was just he and I inside a bubble of time.  His smile was most devious as he called out to me.

            “Why you running, Lus?  If you stay here with me you won’t have to fuck Daddy.  Come join the clown, Lus.  You can float with me.  I’ll keep you safe.  I’ll keep you warm.  Daddy won’t find you, I promise”

            “It can’t be true!” I cried out, and the tears finally came.

            “You wanna know the whole truth, Lus?  Wanna know what really happened to Mommy?”

            “M-m-om?” I stuttered.

            My surroundings changed and shifted, and I was once again in the town of my childhood.  I wore the puffy, blue sailor dress of that tragic day.  The rainbow-colored cotton candy and the clown doll were clutched in my hands.  The same birthday tiara rested on my head, and the white tights and patent leather shoes adorned my feet.  I heard the rustle of the stiff petticoat beneath my dress as the warm, Argentinian breeze blew.  I looked out and there was my mother, picking out a marionette from the circus tent full of toys.  She reached into her pocketbook and pulled out the coins, placing them into the vendor’s hand.  I took in the way her lilac dress conformed to every curve of her body, the way her flowing black hair tumbled down in waves to her waist.  She was beautiful, my mother.  Beautiful and cursed.

            Pennywise stood next to her, not taking his eyes off of me.  I gasped upon realizing I was once again in my dream, and that it was he who was making me relive the one memory I had fought my entire life to forget.

            “Open your eyes, little Lus” he called out, waving his hands out as though about to perform a magnificent magic trick “blink, and you just might miss it!”

            My mother turned towards me and smiled, pulling on the marionette’s strings to show me what she had purchased for me.  I could feel my heart shatter as she moved to cross the street.  The sounds of an engine approaching broke the stillness.

            “Open your eyes Lus!” Pennywise called out to me once more, laughing maniacally.

            “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed, reaching out with my hands.

            Just as the truck came into view, time slowed down.  The dull, sickening thud as the bumper made contact with my mother’s fragile body thumped in my ears, followed by a cracking sound as she was crushed under the wheels.  But just before the truck disappeared, leaving the broken, lifeless body of my mother behind, I caught sight of something I had seen on that fateful day in November.  Something I had never registered, or perhaps had been made to forget…

            Sitting at the driver’s seat of the truck, was a black hood.

 

End of Chapter 4

 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your wonderful comment on the last chapter! Please let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the love you've shown the story! It makes me so, SO HAPPY!!

A Monster for a Mate

Chapter 5

 

\-----

 

1.

 _Close Encounters of the Shitty Kind_  

 

            Everything came to a standstill.

            The time bubble began to erode, with the sights, sounds, and scents of reality pouring in.  Pennywise disappeared with a _POP!_ leaving behind the echo of childlike laughter.  In the maddening haze that had taken over my mind, I felt my feet drag across the asphalt, feeling like they each weighed two tons.  My eyes saw only the torn, heap of flesh and bones that lay in a spreading pool of scarlet.  Paying no mind to the heaviness of my legs I pushed on, wanting nothing more than to reach my mother, to scoop her up from the small sea of blood that seemed to swallow her whole.  In my mind, I remembered the summer in ’94 when I nearly drowned in a community pool, how my mother had jumped in and scooped me up in her arms, reassuring me in her melodic voice that I was fine.  I was in her arms, cradled, safe.  _Baby, you are safe, safe, don’t worry, I’m here, I’m here_.  Now, as I ran into the traffic of Kansas Street to scoop up the specter of a woman who died some twenty years before, my lips sang the same song.  I would hold her, make her alright, and together we would walk home to cut the birthday cake that waited in the fridge of our one bedroom duplex.  _Mother, you are safe, safe, don’t worry, I’m here, I’m here_.

            “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

            Suddenly, I was yanked back, not only to the safety of the sidewalk, but to the harshness of reality.  I looked back to see an elderly man, with kind blue eyes and a head full of white hair, holding me by the shoulders and looking at me with concern.   

            “Miss, are you okay?”

            I jumped, snapping out of my trance and realizing what had occurred.  I looked around me, noticing the other townsfolk who had stopped to see the madwoman who had screamed in horror and walked into oncoming traffic. 

            “You need me to call somebody?”

            I turned my attention to the elderly man, shook my head, and ran.

            Somehow I made it to the center of town, and ignored the odd looks and whispers as I whizzed through the streets, gasping for air as a crushing weight sank deeper and deeper into my chest.  A sound, almost like a choke but not exactly a cry, escaped my throat as I finally reached the glass doors of the townhouse.  I didn’t see nor hear Stacy look up startled and call out to me.  The elevator doors were miraculously open, and the moment they closed, I collapsed.

            I slid down the steel walls until I fell to my knees, and the dam broke.  Loud, wheezing sobs rocked my body as the car went up, not stopping at any other floors.   The icy blade of truth had been plunged into my heart and I no longer lived, for who could go on when the blindfold of conformity is torn away?  Nor was I dead, for the pain was too real.  The well that had been kept sealed and buried had been forcibly burst open, and the waters of recollection were pouring out, unstoppable, and the little girl was drowning.  Drowning again…

            The elevator dinged, but the doors didn’t open automatically. I gasped when suddenly, two gloved hands forced their way in, and the fingers wiggled.  Then the doors were quickly yanked open and standing at the entrance, looking down at me with a huge grin on his face, was Pennywise.

            _No! Not you!_

            “There you are, little songbird” he leered at me “ready to go home? I’ve come to fetcha”

            In an instant, pain turned to fury.

            “Fuck you” I growled.

            “Interesting choice of words little one” he mused, then he lunged for me.  Grabbing my legs, he dragged me out of the elevator and into the hall, in the direction of my suite. I screamed, clawed and kicked all the way, shouting obscenities and crying out for help.  When he dragged me into my room, he stopped. 

            “Why you fighting, Lus?  Dontcha wanna go with me?”

            “Go where?” I said through dry laughter “the sewers?  Ha!  There’s a fucking joke.  And what are you gonna do, huh?  Keep me chained down there as your little fuck toy, waddling knee deep in piss and shit? I would rather rot”

            He stared at me for a good ten seconds, as through trying to process what I said.  Then he burst into raucous laughter.

            “Oh, so I guess you’d rather just…” he shrugged sarcastically “go home and fuck daddy.  That it?  Pop out a little cretin and then wait for him to…” he looked down at me but all humor had now left his face “kill you off just like mommy”

            I let out a cry of sheer rage and tried to kick him off.  He let go of my legs and I lunged for him.

            “Come get it little Lus!” he shouted as I rained down punches, scratches, and swings, but I failed to land a single one.  We continued to dance around the room, with he avoiding my blows with no effort, and I letting out all my pent-up rage on him. 

            “YOU LIE!  IT’S ALL LIES!  YOU’RE TRYING TO FUCK WITH MY MIND BUT IT WON’T WORK! YOU SON OF A BITCH!  I’M LEAVING! I’M GOING HOME AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME!  YOU CAN EAT ALL THE PEOPLE IN DERRY YOU WANT BUT YOU’RE NOT FUCKING WITH ME!  GO BACK TO THE SEWERS WITH THE PISS AND SHIT WHERE YOU BELONG YOU EGG HEADED, CLOWN ASS PIECE OF SHIT!”  _My life has all been lies and fuck you for tearing me from my bubble of blissful ignorance!_

            I stopped dead in my tracks when he suddenly growled, and I noticed that there was red around the yellow of his eyes.  I had angered the beast, had insulted him.  He grabbed my wrists and twisted them, brining me down to my knees as I cried out in pain.  My eyes went wide when I saw the glove on his right hand rip as claws emerged. He let out a loud cackle as he took a swipe at me, leaving a deep, open gash below my left shoulder.  Blood began to pour, staining my trench coat and my beige bodysuit which was now ripped.  My back hit the floor and he crawled over me, grabbing my hair and forcing me to look up at him.  Drool flowed from his lips, dripping onto my face and neck.

            “I said I’ve come to fetch you, Lus.  Derry is your home now.  And the sewers? Oo ah ha ha ha ha... they’ll be our little love nest” he crooned, and his knee roughly parted my legs.  He settled in between them and pressed against me, rubbing up and down and moaning deep in his throat.  I pushed against him with all my might, but I was powerless.  Suddenly, he grabbed the nape of my neck with his clawed hand, and my struggle ceased immediately as I felt my neck go rigid and the razor-sharp claws dug into my skin, drawing more blood.  One good jerk, and my spine would be severed.

            “Please don’t” I begged.

            “Oh we’re begging now, are we?” he purred, then I froze in fear as his long tongue darted out and lapped at the blood that was flowing from my shoulder.  It took all the willpower left in me to keep from screaming in terror when he ran his tongue up my neck and up to my jaw.  The noises coming from deep within him were inhuman, like a ravenous beast getting a first taste of its kill.

            “Say ‘Please Penny.  I’ll be a good girl’” he whispered in my ear.  His grip on my neck tightened and his claws dug in deeper into the soft flesh there.

            Fat tears poured from my eyes.  The pain in my neck was unbearable, like a hot surge of electricity that shot in waves all the way to the tips of toes.  _Oh God, I’m going to end up paralyzed_.

            “Please Penny, I’ll be a good girl” I managed to choke out “don’t hurt me”

            “Hurt you?!  Oh, Pennywise won’t hurt you little one” his voice was now back to its usual childlike tone, and he let go.  I looked up at him incredulous at the sudden change.  He had gone from teasing, to enraged, to lewd, to murderous, and back to his clownish nature in less than three minutes.  He sat up on his knees and pulled me up by my hands.  I watched in shock as his claws retreated and his hand was once again inside an immaculate white glove.  Then he stood and bent down to scoop me up, when suddenly, there were noises in the hall.  The clown froze.  I sighed with relief.

            “HELP ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, managing to get loose and taking off running.  The door shut on its own with a loud THUCK! and I ran straight into it.

            “NOOOOOOO!” I cried out as I tried to turn the lock, but it was stuck.

            I was trapped.

            “AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH” I turned at the sound, and my blood froze at the sight of a demonic clown, with razor sharp teeth and yellow, bloodshot eyes that promised a thousand horrors, flying towards me with clawed hands.

            Then, maybe due to blood loss or all-consuming fear, I fainted.

 

2.

 _29 Neibolt Street_  

 

            I heard, more than felt the groan leave my mouth as my eyes slowly opened.  Everything was blurry, and my head spun as I slowly came back into consciousness.  _No, I’d rather be dead or comatose_ , my subconscious screamed as my vision adjusted and I became aware that I was laying on my side on a cold, hard floor.  My coat was gone.  I registered the pain that throbbed in my neck and the shoulder that supported my weight.  I laid on my back and brought a trembling hand to my neck, then flinched when I touched the still raw wounds.  They were crusted with dry blood, but the pain was fresh.  Next I ran my hand slowly over the gash on my shoulder, and I let out a small cry at the pain that exploded there when the fabric that was stuck to the wound pulled at it, drawing new blood. 

            “Fucking clown” I muttered.

            At that, all the memories of what had transpired came rushing back: The town, the bar, the clown in the Canal and in my room, the day of hunting for answers only to come face to face with the true horror of my existence.  Then the hotel…

            I sat up with a gasp and threw my hands up as if to shield myself from the incoming horror.  But everything was quiet.  Dead quiet.  I slowly lowered my hands and looked at my surroundings.  Next to me was a broken vase with fresh cut sunflowers inside.  I was sitting in the corner of a small, abandoned room.  The paint was crumbling, and large cobwebs hung all around.  The floor was made of rough, broken wood, and it was covered in dust, dry leaves, and shreds of fabric.  Looking up I noticed the ceiling.  It was completely bare, with only the beams of the main frame still supporting it.  There was a small boarded up window on the opposite end of the room, next to an old, hanging, open door.

            I stood, knocking the vase in the process, and staggered towards the open door.  Before I could reach it, it shut close, and on its surface were the words in fresh blood:

 

**TimE OuT LuS**

 

            Just then, the words began to bleed.  The liquid scarlet dripped down until it reached the floor, then began to pool and stream towards me.  I shrieked in terror and staggered, falling on my ass, then I crawled backwards to the corner where I had awakened.  I pulled my knees up to my chest and screamed until my voice went hoarse as the blood continued to flow like a river.  The smell of it was rotten, and I watched in horror as it began to creep up the walls, almost reaching the ceiling.  The floor was being covered by it, and soon, the only place that remained intact was my radius.  The blood was now going up the wall where I was curled up in a ball.  _Holy shit, it’s going to swallow me_.

            “I promise!  I promise!” I screamed in panic.  The blood stopped, having reached right up to the flower vase, and on the wall right above my head.  With a loud swooshing sound and with the force of a strong wind, it all rushed back toward the door and disappeared into the letters.  I collapsed on the floor, and burst into tears.

            I heard the sound of clinking, and I noticed that the flower vase with the sunflowers was back to its upright position.  I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and finally paid attention to the only object in the room.  I touched the yellow petals gently, and perhaps I imagined it, but the petals seemed to sigh and curl in contentment when I touched them.  There was also a bit of a scent to them.  It was sweet, and just a bit tart…

            “Sugar coated lemon drops” I whispered in recognition.

            I remained thus, sitting on the floor, holding the vase on my lap and reveling in their feel and scent, until the room grew dark.  The sun had set.  Finally, overcome by exhaustion, I laid down on the floor, and fell into a deep and restless sleep.

            When I awoke, the room was brightly lit.  The first thing that greeted my vision were the sunflowers that were now positioned next to my head.  I sat up and frowned with confusion when I noticed the old, torn, raggedy blanket that covered me.  Its plaid pattern was faded, the edges frilled, and it smelled old and dusty.

            “Oh, so now you’re being nice” I groaned. 

            I rubbed my sore neck, then I drew in a breath when I noticed the piercing wounds were gone.  Alarmed, I looked down at my shoulder, and saw the wet rag that was pressed against the gash, held in place by the remaining fabric of my bodysuit.  Carefully, I peeled it back and to my amazement the gash was mostly healed.  Not entirely, but it was no longer raw, and a thin layer of new skin was already growing.  The blood had been cleaned (or maybe licked?) off.  I put the rag on what remained of the rim of the flower vase and it was then that I noticed the door was open again. 

            “You’re gonna let me out?” I called out, but there was no answer.  I threw the blanket off and rose to my feet.  I took a couple of small steps towards the door, but nothing happened.  I took two more.  Then three.  Then four.  Soon I reached the door and stood at the threshold.  No blood came, no sudden screech as Pennywise or some other horror ran up on me from the hall.  Cautiously I peeked out and with shock I realized I was on the upper floor of some abandoned home.  Light from outside streamed from the beams, bathing the interior in an eerie glow.  I took a step out of the room and onto the hall.  A board creaked.

            “Rise and shine, little songbird!  Time for breakfast!” Pennywises’s voice floated up toward me from the lower floor.  I jumped at the sound of his voice, and almost dashed back into the room and into my corner of safety, but his voice rang out once again.

            “Oh come now Lus, you don’t want it to get cold, do you?”

            I steeled myself and walked down the length of the hall to the stairwell, pushing cobwebs out of the way.  I took each step on the stairs with extreme caution, expecting them to collapse under me, sending me flying down to a most gruesome death, but the boards held.  As I reached the lower floor I surveyed the area, and took in the decrepit state of the old house.  It was Victorian in structure, with large, open rooms, and antique pieces of furniture scattered throughout.  I took in the intricate details of the fireplace that still shone through the thick layer of dust and time, and read the words on the rich wood: _Good Cheer Good Friends_.

            The sound of shuffling and munching grabbed my attention, and I turned in the direction of the sound.  I made my way to it, crossing the staircase into the other wing of the home, where I walked past an empty, dark dining room, and turned the corner into a brightly lit kitchen. 

            I never made it inside.

            Sitting at a small table was Pennywise, sinking his razor-sharp teeth into the bloody, torn body of a small boy.  The child’s eyes were lifeless but still open, glazed over in unimaginable terror.  His mouth was in a frozen ‘O’.  Blood had come out of his nose, and his head bobbed grotesquely as Pennywise tore into the flesh of his torso, ripping out large chucks of meat.  He whipped his head up when he saw me standing there, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he swallowed a mouthful.

            “You’re right on time, my sweet! It’s still fresh.  Caught me a catch for both of us!  You want a leg or you want an arm?” he said as he broke off an arm at the elbow with a sickening crunch, and held it out for me.

            My hands went to my mouth to keep from vomiting and I gagged in disgust at the sight.  I turned on my heels and ran for the door.  Behind me I could hear Pennywise laughing loudly, and the whole house shook with his laughter.  Dust and beams fell off the ceiling all around me as I dashed to and fro looking for a way out, any window or door.  But every time I seemed to get close to a way out, the whole house shifted and I would be once again at the entrance to the kitchen, watching the clown tear into the kid.

            “It’s either good, wholesome food or empty tummies” he said when I ended up in front of him for the umpteenth time, but this time, he had shifted into Mrs. Doubtfire, with blood dripping from her mouth.  I ran again, but instead of getting stuck in the shifting rooms, I ran up the stairs and into the room where I had awoken. I shut the door closed and stepped back when the words on the door now read:

 

**YuMmy iN mY TumMy**

 

            I turned when I noticed a paper bag on the floor, next to the flower vase.  I could see the golden arches of the McDonald’s symbol on the paper. 

            But also, next to the paper bag, was the severed arm.

 

 

3.

_Siren Song_

 

            It would be hours before I caved in, finally reaching for the bag and getting past the bile that rose in my throat every time I saw the bloody arm.  The fingers were now curled and stiff with rigor mortis setting in, the blood was now a gross thick goo.  I would have kicked it out of my sight, but the mere notion of letting my shoe touch it caused me to almost vomit.  Instead I grabbed the bag, flower vase and blanket, and crawled to the opposite corner.  I didn’t dare leave the room for fear of what lurked outside.

            I opened the McDonald’s bag and found two burgers inside.

            “No fries? Figures” I groaned.  I took one out, unwrapped it halfway, and bit into the quarter pounder.  It was now cold, but for some reason it tasted awfully satisfying.  As I ate, a thousand ridiculous questions crossed my jumbled mind: _How did he get the burgers?  Who was the boy?  What is this place?  Does he have money to buy burgers?  Where does he get it?  How did he scare the boy to death?  Why burgers?  Did he change shape into a human to buy the burgers?  Or did he just stroll in there and stole them?  Burgers though?  Did he snatch the boy up at McDonald’s?  Wait, if it’s morning how did he get burgers?  WHAT TIME IS IT?!_

            “Asshole got me nothing to drink” I coughed as I swallowed the last of the second burger, feeling the tightness in my throat.  I stood and walked to the boarded window, trying to catch a glimpse of outside.  I caught sight of sunset orange light, a dirt street, a broken-down wire fence, a barren garden covered in tall grass, a dead tree… and sunflowers.

            _Sunflowers_?!

            I looked back at the sunflowers in the vase that had been there when I awoke.  They were fresh and full of life, just like the ones in the garden outside.  But how could such beautiful flowers grow where everything else was dead and decaying?  And if the sunflowers in the vase came from the garden outside, then it meant…

            I sat on the floor again and touched the flowers.  Once again, they seemed to open up and give out a sigh of contentment when my fingers brushed against their delicate petals.  As I reveled in their softness, I remembered my days as a teenager when I had become obsessed with the supernatural meaning of animals, celestial phenomena, and plants.

            “The Sunflower: Symbol of longevity, loyalty… and adoration” I remembered aloud.

            I let out a laugh, remembering the words of that old country song I had heard my adoptive father play on the vintage record player on those breezy summer days in Vermont.  A lover of country music, Glen Campbell was his favorite artist.  Now, as I sat there, locked away from the world, I sang.

 

 _Sunflower, good morning_  
_You sure do make it like a sunny day_  
_Sunflower, fair warning_  
_I'm gonna love you if you come my way…_

            I stopped when I heard rustling outside.  The boards creaked.  I smiled deviously and continued.

_Now, if there's a chance that romance can find you_  
_Better not find you looking the other way_  
_Now, isn't it time you finally take it_  
_Make it so real it steals your breath away…_

            The door opened.  Standing there, framed by moonlight, was Pennywise.  In his hand he carried a single sunflower.  His hair was perfectly coiffed, his clown makeup was flawless, and his suit was perfectly puffed out and immaculate.  He walked up to me and sat on his knees, presenting me with the flower.

            I took it.

            “Sing, little bird.  For me” he purred, giving me a most debonair smile.  I noticed that his eyes shone beautifully bright.

            My voice rang out once more, filling the decaying boards and beams of the old, abandoned home with new life.

 

 _Sunflower, good morning_  
_You sure do make it like a sunny time_  
_Sunflower, good morning_  
_And someday, child, I'm gonna make you mine…_

_Well, if there's a chance that romance will find you_  
_Better not find you looking the other way_  
_Isn't it time you finally take it_  
_Make it so good it steals your breath away…_

End of Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Soul Bonded at last!!! And then... SMUT!


	7. Chapter 6

A Monster for a Mate

Chapter 6

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*****WARNING*** The following chapter contains explicit strong content that some may consider offensive and/or disturbing.  Please be advised.**

 

 

1.

_Seduction_

 

            “What will happen to me?”

            The clown lowered his head, reaching out with a gloved hand to touch mine.  We sat on the cold hard floor, my back against the wall and he on my side, facing me.  There was a tremble in his touch, as if tentative, yet doubtful.  He felt neither warm nor cold, but I could tell he felt the heat that emanated from my skin.  There was wonder in his eyes, and for a second he closed them as if reveling in it.

            “What will happen to me?” I repeated my question “will I become like you?”

            “No” he whispered, snaking his hand below mine and taking it gently.  He intertwined his fingers with mine and he sat there contemplating them, as if comparing their vast difference in size and constitution.  I, fragile and half human, he, formidable and celestial.

            “You will carry one of my deadlights” he said at last, still turning our joined hands this way and that way, his yellow eyes scanning over every line, every pore, every texture of my skin.

            “Your deadlights?” I asked, then my eyes widened in realization. “I saw them, when you came into my dreams.  They kill and ravish everything they touch, so how do you know they won’t do the same to me?”

            “You’re only half human, little one” he now said, bringing my hand to his nose and breathing in deeply “they’ve been drawn to you from the moment you set foot in Derry.  They want you, and I want you”

            His eyes shone brightly in the near darkness as they burned into mine, the red of his lips shined with the sheen of saliva as he pressed my palm to his open mouth.  He closed his eyes and moaned deep in his throat.  But beneath the sound that came from him, I could also hear a faint screech, as if something deep within him responded to my scent and my taste with utter hunger. 

            My breath left my body as I watched the effect my mere touch had on the monster, the entity behind the clown.  It wanted to devour me, to taste me whole…

 

            … _to make me its own_.

 

            “Pennywise” I said, barely above a breath.  He opened his eyes and looked up at me, pressing my hand against his cheek.

            “A monster for a mate.  I never thought that would be my fate” I said.

            “You’ll like it” he purred, giving me a crooked smile.

            I felt the pull, the magnetizing hold of his eyes, the firm grip of his hand, and I could feel myself leaning forward, taking a step toward all that his eyes promised.  They spoke of things unseen, secrets unheard of, cycles of time and space in the distant past that no human mind could ever fathom.  They spoke of deep, dark desires unexplored, pleasures yet unconceived.  And beneath all those, a vast darkness, the promise of eternity.

            I pressed my forehead to his and closed my eyes.  His nose nuzzled mine and I reveled in the scent of sugar coated lemon drops.  His hand was now on my face and I could feel his body getting closer to wrap me in an embrace.  I could feel my own body welcoming him, wanting to welcome him.  I was giving in to his obvious seduction.  He was enticing me, tempting me, setting my senses into overdrive.  I could feel him probing into my mind, like soothing fingers running through my hair and lulling me into a deep sleep. 

            But just as his other arm snaked around my waist to pull me close and his teeth morphed into endless rows of jagged daggers, something else was also pulling me back.  It was my past, the life I was leaving behind, and all that came with it.

            The lies, the deceit, the painful memories, they were all vivid, but I could also see my mother.  She was standing on the shores of a vast lake, somewhere far, far away, half hidden in the mist, and she was calling to me.

            _You can’t forget me_ , she whispered.

            My eyes opened.  I looked up at the clown and pulled back. 

            “What if I don’t want to?”

            He shrank back as if burned.  He shook his head and I could hear the bells in his suit jingle as he processed the feeling of rejection that undoubtedly stung.  He brought his face to mine again, but this time, his eyes were menacing.

            “You will beg me for it” he growled before jumping to his feet and staggering out the door.

 

2.

_Apprehension_

 

            I watched the beams of moonlight that filtered through the boarded window.  They hit the opposite wall, bathing the room in ethereal blue light.  I stood up and looked out through the slits.  It was a full moon, large and imposing in the sky.  I folded my arms on the dusty windowsill and wept.

            Was this mercy, or was it the cruelest joke of all?  Was I willing to give it up, to trade my life of comfort and opulence for the dank, dark catacombs of a small Maine town?  Was the price of my freedom really so steep?  Was I to bind myself to a primal monstrosity in order to break free of my past?  Did I deserve such fate?  Why must I pay for the wretchedness of those before me, submit myself to eternal penance for the sins of my blood?

            “All my life, the blasphemy of my birth has followed me” I whispered through my tears, remembering the famous line from my most favorite Greek tragedy, _Antigone_. I saw myself in the ill-stricken Theban princess when I became engrossed in the ancient mythos as a budding teenage girl.  I remembered the day my adoptive father presented me with the gift of the entire Sophocles collection on my 15 th birthday.  Miniature statues of ancient gods and demigods adorned the shelves that lined the walls of my bedroom, expect one: Antigone, the cursed daughter of Oedipus.  She was me, once upon a time.  And like her, I was doomed to find eternity in the caves beneath the city.   

            I remembered my home, my oasis deep in the mountains of Vermont.  In my mind’s eye, I walked through the iron gates, past the mahogany double doors, and stood at the threshold, gazing up at the double staircase of my magnificent home.  I remembered the frescoes painted onto the cupula from which the crystal chandelier hung.  I counted the columns that lined the entrances to the areas of the home, the 18th century French furniture that adorned the rooms and living quarters.  _This is a true Rococan dream!,_ my interior designer had exclaimed when I hand selected the pieces.  Now my dream home was to become the possession of my father, the one whose millennia of evil and snares had brought me to this very place, and brought me so low.

            I remembered my lovers, all the men whose pleasure I had enjoyed.  Oh, there had been many.  From an early age I had been promiscuous, seeking the company of the opposite sex.  It was on my 16th birthday, on the very night of my sweet sixteen party, when I had first been had.  A boy from school, I remembered his awkward heaving and grunting, his careless thrusts and rough touches.  A virgin, like myself.  Soon, I truly discovered the pleasures of the flesh when I was able to have sex with older, experienced men.  I had no trouble getting any man I wanted, and my true father had encouraged my escapades.  The more derailed and wild I became, the more favor I gained in his eyes.  I prided myself in bending men to my will, in seeing them beg for scraps of attention.  By the age of 22, a graduate from Tisch School of the Arts, a rich heiress, and proclaimed daughter of the Great Serpent, I set my eyes on achieving that which had corroded my heart from adolescence: Fame.  I craved it, dreamed of it.  I wanted power and adoration, not just from men, but from the masses.  From the tender age of 9 when my adoptive parents found me in an Argentinian orphanage, I had reveled in my gift for song.  Soon, I discovered opera, and swore that one day my name would be lighting up the marquees of the greatest theatres of the world.  I wanted nothing more than to be the greatest soprano to have ever lived.

            “Oh, what a journey it’s been” I sighed and wiped the tears away.

            The little sad girl who was obsessed with clowns and lost her mother at the tender age of 7, was Luseres Vardanian.

            The young bubbly adolescent who became a licentious, pompous woman, was Luseres Dietrich.

            The woman driven by dreams of glory, who stopped at nothing to reach the summit of greatness, was Scarlett Gregorian.

            Who was I to become now?

            “Mrs. Pennywise, if you please” I muttered with contempt, and a dry, humorless cackle escaped my throat as I pretended to be some sarcastic tour guide with an exaggerated accent. “Her residence is now the sewers of Derry, where she has cemented her throne in some godforsaken tunnel, where she lives with the sewer rats and that demonic clown”

            “He’ll want to fuck me too, no doubt” I now sighed with defeat, crumbling to the floor.  My stomach churned at the thought of that flesh-eating monster running his hands and lips all over me, laying me down and taking me.  But to my own surprise and horror, there was a flutter too.  My heart raced and my senses tingled.  Sure, there was something about the whole clown thing he had going on, with that vintage silver suit, bright red lips and fiery red hair that were monstrously enchanting.  The way his yellow eyes burned, I knew that there were literal flames of fire burning behind those irises.  I laughed maniacally at the irony.  As a child I had developed a nearly unhealthy love for clowns, and now it would be one who would seal my ultimate fate.  There was something in the concept of escaping behind the heavily caked grease paint, drawing big red smiles where there are only scowls and frowns of utter sorrow. 

            I laid down, finally overcome by exhaustion.  The sunflowers in the broken vase were wilting.  They could feel the sadness, doubt, and fear that plagued me.

            Perhaps Antigone would have benefited from becoming a clown.

 

3.

_Realization_

 

            The next morning, I was alone.  No fresh-cut sunflowers were placed in the vase, no meal was left for me to find, no sign of having been visited nor cared for.  Instead, the door was shut, and the words **TimE OuT LuS** were once again painted in blood.  I scoffed and waved it off.

            I stood and craned my neck, stretched my sore, stiff muscles and walked over to the window.  By the height of the sun in the sky it seemed to be close to noon.  The street outside was quiet, and the wind seemed to be eerily calm.  With a sigh, I realized that I would kill for the chance at a bath, a change of clothes, and a hot meal.  My torn bodysuit was now dirty, my jeans were dusty, and my Chuck Taylor’s were no longer pristine.  I tore a piece of the raggedy blanket and used it to tie my long hair into a ponytail.  I then walked to the door and turned the latch, but to my dismay, it was locked.  Angry, I pounded on it.

            “HOW LONG DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA KEEP ME IN HERE BEFORE I DIE OF STARVATION AND NEGLECT HUH?!  YOU CAN’T LOCK ME IN HERE FOREVER!”

            There was no answer.

            Hours passed, and my stomach was now rumbling loudly.  My throat was dry with thirst.  Looking up at the bare ceiling, I finally realized that the bare beams left the top portion of the rooms exposed.  If only I could get up there…

            I jumped to my feet in a hurry and began scanning the walls for the one with the lowest height.  The one adjoining the next room had crumbled, leaving a gap in the middle.  I made my way to the opposite wall, braced myself, and ran for it.  I jumped, and the moment I reached the top of the wall, I was startled by a sudden explosion on the floor below.

            I froze, waiting for something horrific and unimaginable to happen.  Then I heard voices.

            “Lus?!  LUS, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

            It was my father.

            _No, it can’t be!_

            “LUS!  LUSERES!  MY DAUGHTER, I’VE COME FOR YOU!”

            The door to the room burst open, and there, in his magnificent three-piece suit and cloak, walking stick in hand and surrounded by blackhoods ready to strike, was my father.

            “DAD!” I shouted with sheer joy and disbelief.

            I jumped down and ran for him.  I wrapped my arms around him and in that moment, all I could feel was love.  He had come for me, had come to save me.  There was no way what the clown had told me about him was true.

            “How did you find me?!” I said when I pulled back.

            “I had to choke it out of that conniving Walter Padick” he scowled, then he took hold of my shoulders, examining me from head to toe and wincing at the state I was in.

            “That thing didn’t hurt you, did it?  That scum didn’t dare to…”

            “No dad, I’m fine” I said, and embraced him tight again.

            I was safe.

            “Let’s go home”

            In an instant, I was back in Vermont.  Back in my room.  I sighed with relief upon seeing my home, but then I noticed the tall candlesticks in the room, the candles burning, and the windows that surrounded my bedroom suite drawn and covered with black curtains.  More blackhoods emerged from the walls and surrounded us.  They began to chant in very soft, low whispers.  I turned toward my father just as he motioned to the blackhoods that flanked me.

            “Take hold of her”

            I had no chance to react.  Each grabbed one of my arms, and pulled me towards the bed.

            “I’ve indulged you for too long, Lus, what with your dreams of fame and singing for the world, but this is the last straw.  It amused me to see one of my own wish to leave their mark on this world, but it ends here.  Did you think you could run from me, hide from me?  As long as you remain in this world you are my possession.  I made you.  You are mine, and you will fulfill your purpose even if it kills you in the process.  You will provide me with an heir of pure blood, so that the Great Serpent and his progeny will live for a million years, until the time of my exile draws to a close”

            “NO!  Dad, you can’t do this, please!!!” I screamed as I struggled, but I was only yanked back and made to lie on the bed.  My father threw off his cloak, and approached the bed.  He ran his stick over my body, slowly, watching me with the most evil smirk on his face as I squirmed in disgust.

            “You know Lus, your mother was the same way.  She fought it at first, but then she grew to like it.  She got over the idea that fucking her own father was repulsive, and finally understood that I was the only one she was meant to be with.  In time, you will too”

            “AND THEN YOU KILLED HER, YOU SON OF A BITCH” I growled “JUST LIKE ONE DAY YOU WILL KILL ME TOO BUT I PROMISE YOU THIS.  YOU WILL HAVE NO SPAWN FROM ME.  I WILL DESTROY IT WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS EVEN IF IT MEANS I HAVE TO RIP IT OUT OF ME.  THE LINE OF THE NEPHILIM ENDS HERE”

            “Ooooh, I love it when they have a little fire to them.  Not many of my daughters have been as high spirited as you, but they were the ones I most enjoyed”

            He disrobed, throwing off his vest, dress shirt, and finally, his pants.  I turned away from the sight, and screamed at the top of my lungs.  I cried out for help to anyone, anything that might hear me.  And it was then that the childlike voice of Pennywise resounded in my ears, the promise he had made to me when he showed me the truth of my existence.

            “ _Come join the clown, Lus…I’ll keep you safe.  I’ll keep you warm.  Daddy won’t find you, I promise”_

            “Pennywise” I whispered with realization.  This was nothing more than another of his illusions.  But it felt real.  It _was_ real.  The grip on my arms was painful and genuine, a flesh and bone projection of my father now climbed on the bed, and roughly began to tear my clothes from me.  My jeans were yanked down, and then my panties.  My bodysuit was ripped from me, and I was completely naked.  The two blackhoods holding my arms tightened their hold as my father climbed over me and roughly parted my legs wide. 

            “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” I shouted, “PENNYWISE, STOP THIS!  TAKE IT AWAY, PLEASE!”

            “Oh, are you calling out to your new clown friend?  You know, he’s one of the lowest form of scum in the universe.  He can’t save you, not from me” my father growled in my face as he hiked my knees up and took his manhood in his hand.

            “Time to fuck you into submission, Luseres”

            In a last, desperate attempt I cried out, loud and shrill until the walls of the room shook with the force of my scream.

            Everything stopped.  The room went deathly quiet, the candles stopped flickering.  My father and the blackhoods surrounding the bed froze.  I wept loudly, harrowing sobs rocking my body just as the room began to fade.  And then, I was once again in the upstairs room of the house on Neibolt Street, laying naked on the floor, with Pennywise standing over me.  On his face was a most knowing smirk.

            “You called, little one?”

            In an instant I was up on my feet and I threw myself at him. 

            “Please take me with you!  I don’t care what happens to me, but I don’t ever want to go back!  Please!”

            “Say it, Lus” he whispered.

            I pulled back to look at his face.  His eyes bore into mine with a longing I had never imagined seeing in their monstrous depths.

            “I want to be with you” I managed to choke out through my sobs.

            “Show me”

            I did.  In that instant I let go.  I crushed my lips on his, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my body against his.  I kissed him with a yearning I had never felt before.  Here, in the crumbling walls of the old Victorian home, I finally realized that there was an escape for me.  Not in the shining, glittering halls of the palace of some celestial king, but in the arms of an old, battered Lovecraftian horror, abandoned, the last of its kind.

 

4.

_Soul Bond_

 

            Gently, I was laid back down on the floor.  His arms wrapped around me like the limbs of a great werespider.  The silk of his suit was like a caress on my nakedness, and I willingly snaked my arms and legs around him.  His teeth morphed into the rows of flesh-devouring fangs I had seen in my dreams, but I did not look away.  His mouth opened wider, wider, until there was no more than a harrowing tunnel of teeth and death, with three pulsating, screeching lights in its core.

            Instantly, I was blinded, and I was sunk into the Todash darkness from whence It came.  It was swallowing me, pulling me in, until I felt myself drowning.  I was suffocating beneath the depths, but this time, my mother would not be there to save me, for I was sinking of my own will.  I let myself be brought down, until finally, the last vestiges of light disappeared, and I was consumed.

            Suddenly, searing pain exploded and what felt like a lump of hot coal was being forced down my throat.  I mewled and raged as it scorched its way into my chest.  Had I been conscious of my physical body I would have felt it convulsing and flailing wildly as the clown’s unhinged jaws were clamped down on my gaping mouth.  He, in turn, was hacking loudly, as one of the three deadlights detached from him and forced its way into its new host.  In that moment, as it sank into the cavity of my chest and took over my entire being, I felt everything the creature had felt in its long lifespan.  There had been fights for survival, and an attempt at self-preservation, thrusting itself into the vastness of the Macroverse, and finding new feeding grounds.  There had been years of feasting, cycles of sleeping and waking, and finally, there had been pain and fear, the first realizations of Its own mortality.  The more It took over, the less of myself was left, until finally, I was naught but an empty vessel, and a faint, flickering light began to glow in my chest.

            My struggle ceased.   The clown pulled back and wiped the blood from my face.  I could feel him, though my eyes were closed.  I knew he was looking down at me, and I felt his fear.  He had never had a mate before, and even then, those Eldritch creatures from Its past fortunate enough to find one, had almost always lost them in the moment of bonding.  My body was still, but inside, I was being burned alive.

            “Don’t die Lus” he whispered.

            And then, as the last threads of humanity became severed, I saw my mother one last time. She stood on the shores of a vast lake, somewhere far, far away, half hidden in the mist, and she called out to me.

            _You’ll forget me Lus_.

            _I’m sorry_ , was all I could say.

            There was once again a blinding light, and then I saw, and felt no more.

 

End of Chapter 6

END OF PART 1: WHAT LIES BEFORE

           

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: LET THE SMUT BEGIN!!!! Sorry if there was no sex scene in this chapter, but I thought that the soul bond was one of the most climactic events in the story, and I didn't want to water it down by also including a sex scene. But I promise that from here on, Penny and Lus are going to be like rabid horndogs who can't get enough! ;)


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LET THE SIN BEGIN!!!

PART TWO: WHAT LIES BENEATH

 

A Monster for a Mate

Chapter 7

\-----

 

  *****WARNING*** THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT.  IT FEATURES GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEXUAL ACTS THAT MAY BE INAPPROPRIATE FOR YOUNG READERS.**

 

 

1.

_Nuptials_

 

            There were voices.

           

            I could barely hear them, murmuring and whispering as though watching me from the shadows.  I was suspended, floating in a never-ending nothingness. 

 

            I thought I was dead.

 

            Perhaps the clown had lied.  Perhaps I had been eaten instead of joined with Its entity.

 

            The voice came again.  Faint, as though carried in the mist that floated in the darkness.

 

            “Look at my murder son” said one.

 

            “Send in the children” said another.

 

            There was something in those voices that filled me with dread.  I wanted to protect, to save, to preserve whatever it was that the voices plotted to destroy.  Something tugged at my heart strings, and the pang in my chest filled me with an unsettling cold.

 

            “You won’t win!” my mind screamed, clawing at whatever, whoever was there, trying to clutch at anything substantial, material.

           

            “Luseres…” Pennywise’s voice drifted towards me “you float with me now”

 

            The voices stopped.  Pennywise’s laughter filled the nothingness, and I was engulfed in darkness once more.

 

 

2.

_Consummation_

 

I was no longer a human.

 

            “Pennywise” I called out, coming back into consciousness.

            Slowly, my eyes opened.  I blinked, letting them adjust to the brightness.  I stretched lazily, feeling a rush of exuberance flood my veins.  A small giggle escaped my lips as I felt the luxurious softness that almost engulfed me.  Something tickled my fancy as I ran my hands over the fabric on which I lay.  Sitting up, I looked down and laughed as I saw the large pile of animal skins that served as my bed.

            “Bearskin” I whispered, running my hands through the plush fur.  There was Kodiak, Black, and Grizzly bear hides.  “Not bad for a sewer clown” I giggled.

            I looked around me and noticed I was inside of what at first seemed an enormous wooden box.  I took in the red curtains and golden tassels that hung from the canopy ceiling, the swirling fiery lights that shone through the back wall as through a screen, the beams of the floor.  There was a large, intricate wooden chest on the side wall, and next to it, was my missing suitcase. 

            I stood and wrapped one of the hides around me like a blanket.  My feet caused the wooden beams of the floor to creak as I crossed what I now realized was a circus wagon, to the opposite side.  There was a side door that led to a dark, cavernous space, but my eyes were zoomed into the suitcase next to the chest.  I reached for it, but my hand froze before I could touch the handle.  I knew the suitcase was mine, but suddenly I was hit with the awareness that I didn’t know when or where I had lost it, where I had come from, and who I really was.

            “No” I breathed.

            My eyes widened as my mind replayed the last thing I remembered.  I was throwing myself at the clown, begging him to take me with him.  I felt the desperation and helplessness with which I made my plea, the sense of not belonging anywhere, and wishing nothing more than to be made whole.  To belong.

            To escape.

            But escape from what, and from whom?

            “ _The portal must remain open_ ” I heard a voice in my head, and I saw an elegant man in a crisp black suit standing on the sidewalk of a small-town street wave at me and disappear.

            My hand trembled as it ghosted over the handle, and suddenly I was afraid of what I would find inside it.

            “I am Luseres Dietrich, daughter of…”

            Who was I the daughter of?

            I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and felt my eyes moisten, but then to my surprise, I also laughed.  Whatever past had been erased from my memory now seemed totally unimportant.  I was here, wrapped in bearskin and standing in a vintage travelling circus stage, with a soft, warm light flickering in my chest.  I had become one with an ancient relic, the only remaining survivor of a race that some believed to be only a myth.  My monster was lurking somewhere out there, waiting for me to wake.

            I felt the deadlight in my chest suddenly swell, and I knew he was near.  The words of a song that seemed so familiar and yet so foreign came to me, and without thought, my lips parted in song.

 

_In sleep he sang to me,_

_In dreams he came._

_That voice which calls to me,_

_And speaks my name…_

 

            I turned, and standing at the side door of the wagon, was Pennywise.  In his right hand he carried a freshly cut sunflower.  In that moment, seeing the clown, my clown, welcoming me with the most charming smile and beckoning me with his hand, I knew I was home.

            “You weren’t here when I woke up” I said.

            “I’ve been hunting for a rabbit skin to wrap my little Bonnie in.  Now give your best sweetheart a kiss” he said in his best Clark Gable voice and failing miserably.  I laughed, and rushed over to him.  I took the flower from his hand and kissed him most ardently.  When we pulled away there was an expression of awe and amazement on his face.  He studied every line and curve of my face as though seeing it for the first time.  I let my eyes feast upon him, engraving every detail of his unique likeness into my subconscious.  His large bulbous head spoke of great intelligence, the twinkle in his eyes hid so many secrets, and the bright red of his lips were an open invitation to explore my darkest fantasies.  Our noses nuzzled as we drank each other in, memorizing scents and reveling in each other’s taste.

            “Sugar coated lemon drops” I said, and for some reason the taste seemed so dear to me.

            He giggled and brought his lips to mine once more.  His large bunny teeth nipped at my bottom lip, and I stifled a laugh as he kissed me clumsily.  I let him explore, relishing the way his lips moved over mine and his tongue searched my mouth.  His hands were on my cheeks but soon they began to travel.  There was an uncertain curiosity in his touch as he ran them down my face and my neck before tugging at the bearskin wrapped around me.  It felt silently to the floor, and his hands ran up and down the length of my arms before his fingers ghosted over the skin of my chest.  He went lower and cupped my breasts.

            Suddenly, he pulled back alarmed.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked with worry as he stood there with shock written on his face before looking down at himself confused.  I followed his vision and broke into raucous laughter as I watched him marvel at the bulk that was growing in his pantaloons. 

            “Peek-a-boo!” he said, chuckling and pointing at it excited.

            “Are you serious right now?!” I wheezed.  I felt my heart melt at the sight, as it finally dawned on me that I was witness to his first ever erection.

            I took his face in my hands and kissed his lips softly.

            “Oh you’re in for a treat” I whispered against his mouth, then grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back toward the pile of skins.  With a shove he fell backwards into it, and I crawled over him.

            “You’ve never…?” I asked teasingly, nuzzling him.

            He shook his head rapidly.  “No” he grunted.

            “Do you know what happens?” I continued to egg him on, grinding against him.

            “I know I have to stick it… there” he said, pointing down to the juncture of my legs.

            I blushed, despite having the upper hand.  My monster, my mate, was a billion-year-old virgin.  How did I get so lucky?

            “Oh there’s so much more to it than that” I crooned, and reached down, cupping his erection.  He drew in a sharp breath, and his chuckling turned into a harsh groan as my hands mapped out whatever it was that was hiding beneath the white silk.  It was so large, so thick, and it pulsated against my touch, screaming to be freed.

            “Touch me Penny” I whispered, and his hands instantly began roaming.  They snaked their way down my torso, past my belly, and down to pool into my slit.  His fingers ran across the wet folds, pushing and probing. 

            He watched me with fascination as I responded to his touch, and I moved back and forth against his exploring digits.   One of them found my entrance and curved in, causing me to buck wildly.  He let out of shrill of delight as he watched me squirm in his hands.  He slipped in another finger, and deeper and deeper he went.  He was rubbing, thrusting, touching, pressing, and I was close, so close…

            “Stop” I said suddenly, taking hold of his wrist.  I wanted, no, needed him inside me.  All of him.  I needed to be his, and I wanted him to feel me completely as we were fully joined as one.

            “Take it off, I want to touch you” I said, pulling at the fabric of his suit, but the entire piece was perfectly and tightly molded to his body.  I searched frantically for any zippers, buttons or ties, but there were none.  I reached under the peplum of his waistcoat and found another layer of fabric that covered his torso and connected to his pantaloons.

            “It’s never come off” he said panicked, his mouth dropping in dismay.

            “You mean there’s no way to remove it?”

            He shook his head.

            My hands ran over the fabric, the barrier that separated me from fully enjoying my mate.  I could feel the strong muscles beneath the silk, the lines of his body.  My skin ached to feel them, to press against them.  But the garment was part of the avatar, a part of him.

            “I can change form for you” he said, almost apologetically.

            “No.  I want you in this form.  There must be a way” I said instantly, holding him tightly.  He wrapped his arms around me as though trying as much as he could to feel the warmth of my skin.

            In desperation I reached down and grabbed a handful of his pantaloons.  Using all the strength in me I pulled but the fabric refused to give.  He replaced my hands with his, yanked, and finally it tore, then Pennywise’s massive member spilled out. 

            “Oh shit!” I cried out, my mouth hanging open in amazement.

            The cock was humanoid, with ridges and pulsating veins branching around it.  It had amazing girth from tip to base, where it began as a large bulbous knot.  From the tip oozed precum, not in small drops, but in a constant trickle that slid down the length of the member, coating it and making it slick and shiny.  It twitched as I stared it at it in awe, and Pennywise bit his lip expectantly.  I wanted nothing more than to taste it, to take its whole length in my mouth, but that was a surprise for another time.  

            “Does it honk?” I asked deviously.

            He gave it a good squeeze, and it shot out a squirt of precum as it squeaked loudly.  We both erupted in uncontrollable giggles.

            “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with this!” I squealed, taking it in my hand.  My fingers were only able to curl around it halfway, and Pennywise let out a loud hiss as I stroked the length.  My fingers slid up and down, becoming wet with the pre-ejaculate that coated it.  I straddled him, and watched every expression on his face, from anticipation, to admiration, to shock, and then all of them combined as I brought myself down on him slowly.  A sound that was almost like a mewl and a hitching sob came from his mouth as my walls wrapped tightly around him, and I cried out as his great length filled me, stretching me to the max.

            He fit me perfectly.

            “HHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOO” he gasped loudly, his mouth open wide, overcome by the sensations.

            “You okay?” I asked, looking down at him and taking his face in my hands.  His entire body was trembling, his tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and he drooled incessantly. 

            “Unnnnghhhh” was the only response I got.

            I began to move.  Slowly, I brought myself up and down on him as he struggled to keep his composure.  He began to growl softly in his throat, every now and then yipping and cackling as he matched my movements.  His claws emerged, ripping his gloves, and they sank into the flesh of my back while his tongue ran over every bit of flesh it could find.  A deep moan escaped my lips when he took a breast into his mouth, sucking eagerly and biting on my nipple, then giving the other the same treatment.  Drool dripped all the way down my torso as he kissed, licked, and sucked all over.  Soon, blood began to form around the yellow of his irises, and his noises became more animalistic.  His movements were also more erratic, and his claws ran down the length of my back, drawing blood.  I knew he would not be able to restrain himself for much longer.

            “Fuck me Pennywise” I breathed “fuck me raw”

            That did it. 

            He roared loudly and flipped me over, throwing me underneath him and opening my legs wide before slamming back into me.  His kill mouth opened and I shouted out in pain and pleasure as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of my shoulder and he lapped at the blood that poured.  He thrust into me wildly, like an animal, losing himself into our mating.     

            “Penny, slow down baby” I gasped, fearing he would break me in half, but he seemed not to hear.  He let out the most inhumane sounds, his eyes were big and wild, and his hips bucked roughly without any finesse.  Tears poured from my eyes and I wailed with abandon as my orgasms exploded, one after another, my whole body spasming uncontrollably as he continued to bite my chest, my breasts, my stomach and my thighs. 

            I had never been taken like that before.  It was raw, primitive and savage, but my entire being relished it.  There was something in the quality of surrendering entirely to be ravished by a ravenous beast, a ferocious creature who was finally getting its first taste of flesh.  The blood, the gnashing of teeth, the scraping of claws on soft flesh, they all brought me to the brink of death and made for the most erotically surreal experience of my life. 

            The entire stage box began to shake.  Pennywise threw his head back, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he roared.  He thrusted into me a few more time before burying himself deep inside me, and I was filled.  I could feel his cock throbbing as it shot load after load of seed into me, coating my walls and running down my thighs.  Suddenly, he went still, and then he collapsed on top of me.

            I bore his weight gladly and I cradled him, wrapping my legs and arms around him.  He began trembling uncontrollably, whining and whimpering softly.  I kissed his forehead, his eyes, his round puffy cheeks, his nose.  He kissed me with wet, shaky lips, and whispered something into my mouth.

            “Mine”

            “Mine” I echoed, letting him bury his face into the crook of my neck. 

            My deadlight glowed in my chest, and I could see the same pulsating light emanating through the silk of his suit.  They shone brightly in unison as the physical bond finally became complete.

            The swirling lights on the wall of the wagon became dim, and we settled into a sweet, lazy haze.  Not exactly asleep, yet not fully awake.

 

3.

_Afterglow_

 

 

            “Oooh oh ho ho ha ha ha” Pennywise giggled as he tickled me under the animal skins.  We were now fully alert, lounging lazily in the wagon.  I squirmed under his hold, cackling like a maniac.  His nose was buried behind my ear, licking the back of it and causing me to laugh even louder. 

            “What happens now?” I asked suddenly.  The tickling stopped and he pulled me closer.  I snuggled against him and melted into him. 

            “We feed, little one” he whispered in my ear “we’ll spend the rest of eternity sleeping and feasting.  That sound good to you, hmm?”

            “Feed…” I said, feeling the grumbling in my stomach, then I heard the same noise coming from behind me.

            “Does mating always make one hungry?” he asked, rubbing his belly.  I laughed.

            “It does if you get fucked properly” I winked.

            He began licking my bite wounds to heal them, turning me so he could reach the ones on my torso and abdomen.  When he got to the ones on my thighs, he stopped and looked up at me with the most mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

            I swallowed hard.  “When you said we’d be spending eternity feasting, did you mean eating or… WHOA!”

            I got my answer.

            For a virgin, Pennywise knew much more about mating than he let on.

 

            End of Chapter 7

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy, we passed 100 kudos!!! Thank you SO SO MUCH!! :)


	9. Chapter 8

A Monster for a Mate

Chapter 8

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  *****WARNING*** The following contains mature content.  It features graphic depictions of sexual acts that may be inappropriate for young readers.**

 

 

1.

_Show me your Worst_

 

I was a disaster.

 

            My hair was a matted mess, there were bruises, cuts, bite marks, and gashes of claw marks in various stages of healing from my hairline to my feet.  Splotches of drool, blood, and alien semen covered me from head to toe.  My skin was a grotesque map of purple, blue, and red, indicating the highs and lows of time spent in shameless rutting.  I was covered in dirt too from having been rolling and frolicking on the dusty floor of the wagon. 

            And still, it wasn’t enough.

            “Mmmmmm” I moaned deep in my throat, the sounds produced by my vocal chords now sounding hoarse and unrefined from hours and hours of screaming and growling.  I was on my knees, and I could feel the rough wooden beams of the floor scraping my already raw kneecaps, tainting them with new, fresh blood.  I squealed when I felt the hard, painful slap on my ass, and then a clawed hand snaked its ghoulish fingers in between the cheeks, prodding my ass and my cunt which was now gorged and swollen.  At the sensations, my tongue darted out hungrily and ran up the length of the alien cock in my hand, from base to its oozing tip.   I looked up to see Pennywise roll his eyes into the back of his head and screech as his throbbing cocked disappeared into my mouth.

            The clown fared no better than me.  His once coiffed hair now hung in loose, stringy strands, his suit was torn all over (the pom poms, tassels, and bells now lay scattered all over the wagon), and yet through all this, his makeup remained immaculate.  Like his suit, the grease paint caked skin was a part of him, not a mere layer.  And yet, I could see a little bit of the kohl under his eyes begin to smudge after the endless hours of lustful exertions.  He hadn’t fed since we first mated, and I could feel him begin to grow a bit sluggish, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.  The more he had, the more he craved.  He was now on a mission to invade my asshole which he had discovered soon after our first mate, and my efforts to stall him were beginning to fail.   “Ooooooh there’s another hole for Ol’ Penny to play with!” he had exclaimed as he turned me onto my stomach to investigate.  He had prodded, eaten (which had been divine), but when he tried to stick his cock in, I had yelped out in pain and scurried away.  He had fixed me with a glare and lowered his brow in an open display of menace. 

            “You’ll tear me in half!  It hurts!” I had whined and pleaded, but he wouldn’t hear it.  He lunged for me and we wrestled on the skins, tossing and tussling until I managed to top him and dropped my pussy down on him.  He had wheezed in surprise and became lost in another bout of fucking, but his fingers had soon found their way to my bottom.  I had come with the force of a hurricane.

            I suctioned the massive cock, creating a vacuum effect with my mouth as my head bobbed up and down.  Saliva and precum dripped from my chin, and I moaned as I relished its licorice taste.  It was tart, spicy and bitter, with a faraway tinge of sweetness that exploded in my mouth.  Pennywise’s hands grabbed handfuls of my tangled hair and yanked as he rode the waves of pleasure.  He began to thrust his hips upwards, causing his engorged member to hit the back of my throat and almost making me choke as his pre-ejaculate coated it.  My mouth was now wide open as he fucked my face with gusto.  Tears fell from my eyes and I struggled to breathe as I scratched and clawed at him.  He on the other hand, yapped and cackled in sheer pleasure.

            Just as my vision began to blur and I saw black, he suddenly pulled out of my mouth and threw me onto the animal skins face down.  Before I could even react, I SCREAMED.

            “Here comes Pennywise!” he crooned, and plunged into my asshole.  My scream carried for what seemed like eternity, but when my voice died down, my mouth remained open and all I could do was suck air in as I felt my pelvis split in two.  He laughed above me as he began to move.  With horror, I found my voice again, and this time, cries of agony became muddled with the foulest obscenities and pleads for mercy.

            “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT… FUCKKKKKKK…. YOU TORE SOMETHING INSIDE YOU ASSHOLEEEEEEE… GO SLOW FOR THE LOVE OF GOD… OH PLEASE… OH GOD… OH PLEASE PENNY… BE GENTLE FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK!... I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU FOR THIS…. AH IT HURTS… I SAID IT FUCKING HURTS!!!”

            “WOOOH AH HA HA HA HA HA!” he laughed maniacally in response “you were holding out on me, Lus.  You didn’t tell me you had this tight little hole back here that could eat Penny’s cock real nice” he now grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backwards to whisper darkly in my ear.  “Oooooooh, it’s just like your mouth.  It sucks on it like a sweet, cherry lollipop… WELL, IT IS A SWEET, CHERRY LOLLIPOP!”

            I dared to look between my legs, and I wailed as I saw the pink, slimy lines that dripped down my thighs, the sickly mixture of Pennywise’s precum and my blood.  All I could do was grab handfuls of the animal skins and bury my face in them as he fucked my asshole with hard, steady, strokes.  His teeth were clamped down on my shoulder blade, and I could feel the vibrations of his moaning in my skin.  I cried loudly, feeling the burning, sharp pain between my legs slowly become a dull, throbbing ache.  The gloved hand that held my hips in place now made its way to my quim and he slipped two fingers inside.  Despite my agony, I moaned at the way his digits curled inside me and touched the center of my pleasure.  He had marveled previously at the way my body lost control when he touched my g-spot in a specific way, and he was seeking that same reaction now.

            “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Lus, I’ll make it good for you” he growled into my ear as he rubbed teasingly.  To my own amazement, the pain in my ass had turned mostly into a numb pulsation and the sensations in my cunt were amplified.  I began to squirm in painful pleasure and pressing myself more into his hand.  He continued moving, and we were soon swaying in unison.  I could smell blood and sex in the air, a sickening bouquet that burned my nostrils.  My face was stained with tears, and my hitching sobs were cut silent with every upward thrust of Pennywise’s hips.

            When I came, I threw myself backwards, falling into him.  He held me tightly, his fingers inside me not stopping their prodding as my body twitched violently, and his glove became soaked with my ejaculate.  My orgasm brought on his, as the contracting walls of my ass clamped down on him.  Had I been facing him, I would have seen his eyes bulge out of his head and his kill mouth drop open as the crashing waves rippled over him.  I once again bore the onslaught of his release, teeth gnashing and biting into the already brutalized skin of my back, and he pumped load after load of cum inside me.  His snarls and growls were inhuman, making the circus wagon vibrate as the swirling lights swelled and burned blindingly bright.

            We collapsed on the animal skins, and there was a painful squelch as he slipped out of me.  Bloody cum poured onto my legs, which still trembled and twitched uncontrollably.  I curled myself tightly against him, and this time, it was he who offered comfort.  My face was buried in the ruffles of his collar, and he shushed me lovingly as I wept loudly.

            “Shhhh… there there…” he cooed as he wrapped his legs and arms around me.  Though his tone was gentle and concerned, I could still hear the devious laughter beneath.  “Don’t cry now, my sweet.  What a good girl you are.  I bet I can cheer you up, I’ll give you a balloon.  Would you like a balloon, my little songbird?”

            I squirmed deeper into his collar, half angry.  “What the fuck is a balloon gonna do?” I sobbed.

            “If not a balloon, how about A BUNCH?!” he exclaimed, and when I peeked I gasped upon seeing a gazillion red balloons materialize on the ceiling and fall down on us.  Pennywise let out a squeal of childish delight, and I broke out in laughter, my anger quickly dissipating.

            “You’re the worst” I scoffed, taking a balloon by the knot and bopping him on the nose.

            He kissed me, and we melted into the soft fur.  He kissed me for what felt like forever, until I settled into that delicious, half-awake haze.  His mouth left my face and began travelling south, his tongue running over every cut, bite, scrape and claw mark that marred my body.  Sex with a monster was a raw, painful, deadly game, but the mind-shattering pleasure, the elated sense of possession, and the danger that came with helplessness made it all worthwhile.  That, and by golly, was Pennywise a master at aftercare.

            As his tongue and hands worked their magic and I was once again healed, I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of ecstasy.

            I was a disaster, but also a woman made whole.

 

2.

_Lost and Found_

 

            When I came to, the balloons were gone, and I felt a chill on my skin at being devoid of a certain firm body wrapped in silver white silk.

            I sat up, and saw Pennywise standing in front of a broken, full length mirror that rested next to the door of the wagon.  He was fluffing the silk ruffles of his coat cuffs, straightening the pom poms of his torso, and making sure that his hair was perfectly coiffed.  He hummed to himself as he turned this way and that way, making sure he was prim and proper.

            I whistled a cat-call at him, and when he turned to me in surprise, I made the most obscenely taunting gestures at him.  Had he any blood in him, he would have blushed.

            “And just who is this handsome hunk of clown?” I purred, beckoning him with a finger.

            He giggled and sauntered over to me, falling to his knees to bring himself down to my level.  I took his face in my hands and kissed him hungrily.

            “No, no, no, no, my sweet” he said, pulling back and cupping my chin “I must go hunting”

            “Mmmmm… food” I murmured, feeling my stomach rumble and tighten “that sounds lovely”

            My eyes suddenly widened when I realized what was about to happen.  A child was going to die to feed Pennywise... and me.  I could feel my heart twist and my mind recoil in horror at the idea, but the growling in my stomach was worse.  My mouth watered at the thought of flesh, but was I ready to sink my teeth into it?

            “They’re nothing.  Only food” Pennywise instructed, reading my thoughts.  I nodded, but wrapped my arms around my body in hesitance. 

            “Just in case, bring me something else.  You know… small steps” I said “go stalk some kid at McDonald’s, like the last one”

            He smiled and kissed my forehead.  He nuzzled my nose, drinking me in, then he stood and walked out of the wagon, leaving me alone to battle my muddled thoughts.

            I stood and stretched lazily.  I looked around me at the mess we had made, and gasped in horror.  My womanly instincts kicked in, and I got to work.  I gathered the skins that were strewn all over, dusted them, and arranged them in a nice, inviting pile of plush furs against the wall.  There was an old, squeaky rocking chair that had fallen onto its side, and I straightened it, placing it next to the skins.  I dusted the curtains and tassels that hung all around the wagon, making sure they were folded and pleated to perfection.  The last items were the vintage chest and my suitcase, and I placed them next to the broken mirror Pennywise had stood in front of only moments prior.

            Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened Pennywise’s chest.  I drew in a sharp breath and took a step back upon seeing what was inside:  There was a beautiful, intricate, vintage clown dress, made of the same silver white silk as his.  I pulled it out and marveled at the sleeves that were short and puffy, held together by red tassels and lace.  The neckline was low, with a ruffled collar that was cut off in the front.  The skirt reached the middle of my thighs and it was lined by layers and layers of a stiff petticoat.  I sat on the rocking chair and ran my fingers over the delicate garment.  There were three red pom poms down the middle just like his, and a peplum fell over the skirt, giving the illusion of a top coat.  At first look, I knew the dress would fit me perfectly.  There was an almost otherworldly feel to it, and perhaps my eyes betrayed me, but I could see a shimmer of some type of magic that flowed through the fabric.  I hugged the dress tight, and stood to look at what else was inside the chest.

            I teared up at finding a pair of lacy white gloves, white tights, and a pair of unused Victorian lace-up boots.  They were made of leather, with white lace embroidered into them, and high enough to reach my mid-calf.  Under them was a vast assortment of fabric, thread, lace, ribbons, tassels, and sewing equipment.  There were also old, used art materials, and fake red human hair.

            I frowned at the last one, and moved to don the dress, but I stopped myself.  It was obviously a surprise for me, but…

            “Of course” I said softly to myself, realizing the magnitude of what I had found.

            The entire outfit was unused, but not new.  There had been a thin layer of dust on top of the dress, which indicated that it had been in storage for a very long time.  Pennywise hadn’t made the dress specifically for me, but for a mate, if he ever found one.  It’s favored form was male, so the thought of a female mate made the most physiological sense.  How long had he waited, spending days and months, maybe even years, creating a matching wardrobe for the one who would bond with him, hoping against hope that his seclusion in a forsaken world inhabited only by inferior beings that served as sustenance would not be for naught?  Centuries spent in feeding and sleeping had made him self-sufficient, to the point of realizing that perhaps It was better off alone, without the burden of Another.  Perhaps he had stashed the dress away with a growl of anger, coming to terms with the reality that It truly was the last of a dying race.

            And yet, here I was.  He had soul bonded, and there was now one who would spend eternity with him.  I quickly folded the dress and placed it back into the chest, closing the lid.  I would not be hasty, I would wait until he reached for it, and placed it on me.  I shook with delightful anticipation as I envisioned Pennywise tying the laces down my back, fluffing the petticoat and ruffling my collar.  Perhaps he would braid laces into my hair and paint my face.  He would place the gloves on my hands and tie the laces of the boots, and there I would stand, resplendent in the exquisite garb of a vintage clown.

            I reached for my suitcase and placed it flat on the floor.  I opened the zipper, pulled back the lid, and let out a sigh of resignation upon seeing the clothes, shoes, and personal belongings that I no longer recognized.  Everything in the suitcase looked and smelled pristine.  All the garments were designer items, from the underwear to the outerwear and shoes.  I knew everything was expensive, and I shrugged at the thought that perhaps I’d been a rich, snooty heiress.  Maybe I had been a celebrity, or the CEO of a big company, or perhaps…

            The only item of clothing that was tattered was a beautiful trench coat.  The left side of the folded neck was torn and stained with blood.  I knew just whose claws matched the marks on the coat exactly.  No doubt I was wearing it when Pennywise snatched me up. 

            I threw the coat on over my naked body, tied the belt, and pulled out a pair of nude Christian Louboutin pumps.  I slipped into them, and for a brief second, the image of a theatre stage flashed before my eyes.  I looked at myself on the broken mirror, and in that moment I felt filthy rich, I felt important, I felt…

            “Lost” I said, barely above a breath.

            The side door of the band wagon was open, and I caught a glimpse of sepulchral darkness, of grey and death beyond the door.  The pumps went clickety-clack as I dared to step out, past the three-step stairs, and onto the dirt floor of a cavernous, circular structure.  At first I saw the silver glisten of the shallow water on the walls of the tunnels that branched out toward the unknown, and for a second I almost ran back into the wagon, but then my eyes caught sight of the small mountains that littered the cistern.  As I looked, I noticed that the small mountains were actually small heaps of child toys and clothes, covered in the dirt and grime of time.  I took a few daring steps forward and looked back at the wagon.  It was much, much smaller on the outside and my eyes travelled upward as I took in the humongous tower of toys that was stocked above it.  How had the wagon not collapsed under the weight of centuries of mementos?  My eyes were still marveling at the lair, when I finally reached the very top, and my mouth dropped open in horror.

            “WHAT IN THE LIVING FUCK?!”

            The half-eaten bodies of children floated around the tip of the pile, and for some reason I got the impression that they were all singing in unison.  The faraway sound of a haunting lullaby drifted towards me from above, and I ran back into the wagon, shutting the door and recoiling into the pile of skins.  I burst into tears, clutching my head as I tried to get the vision of those small bodies and the sound of their deathly lullaby out of my head.  I nearly went mad at the realization that while Pennywise and I were fucking like wild animals, all those dead children were up there, floating and drifting.

            “They’re nothing.  Only food” Pennywises’s words echoed in my head along with his cackling laughter. 

            “The fuck they are” I mumbled through my ragged breathing.

            I needed something, anything, to distract me from the macabre scene playing right above me, so I lunged for my suitcase and hauled it to where I was.  I sat Indian style on top of the furs, still wearing the trench coat and pumps, and pulled everything out of it.  I also reached into the pockets of the coat and pulled out a wallet.  With urgency, I opened it and found a card key to room 629 of the Derry Town House, an American Express credit card, and two bank cards to Chase Bank and Bank of America.  Lastly, there was $1,000 in one-hundred-dollar bills and a driver’s license from Vermont.  My picture was on it, and the information read:

 

Name: Luseres Dietrich

Born: November 6, 1989

Blood Type: AB

 

            I held the driver’s license in my hand for a long time, as if the digital information printed on it would give me a glimpse of who I was.  I knew my name to be Luseres Vardanyan, so where did Dietrich come from?   I lived in Vermont?  And I was 27 years old?

            I was sorting through the clothes, folding them and putting them back into the suitcase, when Pennywise returned.  I quickly set them aside, and all the fear, confusion, and sadness slipped away at the sight of his smiling face.  He paid no mind to the ridiculous sight of me dressed in naught but a trench coat and high heels, for his smile instantly fell when he noticed the wetness of my cheeks and the redness of my eyes.  In an instant he was next to me, placing the small package he carried aside, and taking my face in his hands.

            “Why are you sad, Lus?” he asked with genuine concern.

            “I missed you, that’s all” I answered truthfully.

            His smile returned.  “I brought you something” he said with excitement, placing the small bundle in my hands.  I looked at him, and to my amazement, I felt a surge of fulfillment rush from his body to mine, and I realized that every time Pennywise fed, he also nourished the deadlight pulsating inside me.  I looked down and studied the soft, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.  I opened it, and inside was a succulent, prime cut of lamb meat.

            My mouth was salivating as I brought it to my lips, and Pennywise clapped in joy upon hearing my moan of satisfaction and seeing my eyes close in bliss as I took a bite of the meat.  It was absolutely delicious, tender and sweet.

            I laid back against his chest and basked in his nearness as I ate.  His fingers worked untangling the knots in my hair, and I felt my heart flutter upon remembering what I had found inside the old chest.  I took notice of the tag that was tied into the twine, and read the name of the place where the lamb had come from:

            _Quality Meats of Main Street_

 

End of Chapter 8


	10. Chapter 9

A Monster for a Mate

Chapter 9

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1.

“ _He thrusts his fists against the posts…_ ”

 

            “Penny?”

            I sat up and stretched, coming out of my post-coitus haze.  I rubbed my heavy eyelids and squinted, the bright lights of the wall almost burning my eyes.  Peeking around I realized I was alone, but the glow in my chest indicated that Pennywise was close.  I rose from the pile of bearskins with a frown of concern upon noticing that the swirling lights almost exploded out of the wall, churning, crackling and sparking as though a dangerously powerful storm brew within.  By now I had come to realize that they burned in accordance with Pennywise’s ever-changing moods, and in that moment, Pennywise was about to kill. 

            But he was close… so how?

            Then the blood-freezing fear hit me with the force of a hurricane.  I quickly threw on my discarded trench coat and pumps, and rushed out of the wagon into the lair.  My eyes instantly went to the tunnels that branched out of the cistern, but I turned startled at the sound of huffing and grunting behind me.  My brow furrowed at the sight before me:  Pennywise was crouched at the base of the pile of keepsakes from his past hunts, clutching what appeared to be a bright garment in his hands.  He shook his head as though in a trance, and the way his shoulders were hunched almost hungrily over the small bundle spoke that he was lost in memories of time past.  His lips moved rapidly as though he were chanting what to my eyes sounded like an echo, a small voice that to this day hung over him like a magic spell. 

            I took a couple of cautious steps towards him, trying to make out what he was saying.  It sounded more and more like a single sentence that he repeated over and over like a record player on a loop.  His eyes were closed.  I slowly inched my way closer, and the words began to become clear.  What I heard left me dumbfounded.

            “…and still insists he sees the ghosts.  He thrusts his fists against the p…”

            Suddenly, his eyes opened and he turned to look directly at me.  I froze where I stood and that was when I first saw the white silver pain that filled It’s head with a maddening fear.  A galling fear that caused It to fear for It’s life.

            But just as quickly as it had been there, it was gone.  The blood around the yellow of his irises receded, and his lips curled into their usual sneer.  I swallowed the lump in my throat and crossed the distance between us, falling to my knees next to him.

            “What a tasty little morsel he was” he giggled, looking down at what I now recognized as a yellow raincoat.  He didn’t fool me.  I had felt what he was feeling, and as much as he obviously hated the fact that having soul bonded left him completely exposed to my mind’s eye, his efforts to hide it were only to guard his ego.

            “Who were they?” I asked, taking his hands in mine.

            His lips fell.  I went on. 

            “There were seven of them.  I’ve seen them.  The kids.  The ones that got away”

            “They had help!” he suddenly roared, grabbing a small tricycle from the pile and throwing it against the wall.  He shrank away from me, crossing his arms on top of his knees and hiding his face.

            “I know about that too, Penny”

            He buried his face deeper into his arms.

            “The turtle worked through them.  I heard it plotting.  But there was another one, Penny, I heard his voice.  He called you his _murder son_ ”

            Pennywise now trembled. 

            “The Crimson King” I said in realization.  Pennywise roared and flew towards me, grabbing the lapels of my trench coat and bringing his face to mine.  His eyes were wild and murderous.

            “There is no crimson king!” he roared “there is only IT and that stupid turtle!  But the turtle is dead and now it’s just me!  ME!  Those pesky little cretins will come back and when they do…” he trailed off, looking down at his hands as though he already had them in his grasp.

            “You don’t fool me Penny.  I see what you see and feel what you feel. I’ve seen everything you’ve done and everything you are, you old were spider”

            He shook his head in my face and glared at me, then his eyes softened and his hold became gentle.  His hands were now on my neck, and I could feel the way his hands shook with fear.  I marveled at the sight of Fear Itself succumb to its own nature.

            “There was Another” he whispered.

            “There was, I heard him too.  Which is why you need to be ready.   If the turtle is indeed dead, there is someone else still working through them”

            His eyes searched mine, and their merry twinkle began to return when he saw himself inside their green depths.  I had become a part of him, an extension of himself.  If he fed, he nourished me.  If he hurt, I hurt.  If he died, I perished right along with him. 

            I realized that the yellow raincoat was still on the floor between us, and I picked it up.  I turned it in my hands, looking for the tag, and the name I knew to be there.

            “Georgie Denbrough” I read aloud.

            Pennywise closed his hands around mine.  The raincoat was clasped between us like a talisman, an assurance of what was soon to come.

            “Ol’ Billy boy will come back, I’ll make sure of it” he crooned “the Hanlon junkie will call him back home.  Billy and all the others, the sick one, the fat one, the red hair girl, the Jew one and the Trashmouth, they will all come home.  Back to Derry”

            “You make sure you kill them all, you hear?” I said venomously “you kill them slowly.  You kill them good”

            He brought his lips to mine, and I reveled in the sweetness of his mouth.  There, in the cistern, in a cold, blustery day of October I had ensured that the monster awoke fully.  Ensuring It’s survival ensured mine, but there was something else tugging at my heart strings.  It was the need to ensure the survival of It’s species, and I could also feel the same need bursting in Pennywise’s mind.  The gears in his mind were working, plotting, scheming, and though I didn’t know it then, it was I who would play the most pivotal role in It’s survival.

            Summer seemed so far away…

           

2.

_A Mid-Autumn Day’s Stroll_

 

            “Penny, I must go up to the surface” I said the next day as I exited the wagon.  He had just returned from another hunt, and he was in the process of adding the child’s torn, bloodied clothing and a school backpack to his pile of mementos. 

            “No” he said abruptly without missing a beat.

            “Yes” I said firmly, standing directly in front of him.  “I need to take care of a couple of things before I… you know… settle here.  I also need a bath.  I’d kill for a bath right about now”

            “Don’t need no bath” he pouted.

            “Have you seen my hair? Jesus!  All you have do is snap your fingers and you’re spic-n-span.  I need actual water to get clean”

            “Got lots of water here” he said, waving his arm toward the tunnels.

            “Did you seriously just suggest I bathe in shitty sewer water?!” I exclaimed, jabbing him.  He squealed with laughter and began tickling me. 

            “Stop… seriously… I… need… to… go…” I wheezed through my raucous laughter.  We wrestled for a few moments longer, then I finally straddled him and pinned him down.

            “You will take me up there, or else” I threatened with mock anger.

            “Or else what, Lus?” Pennywise whined, pretending to surrender, but bucking his hips upward to run his cock against my slit through our clothes.

            “Or else I won’t suck your cock for a week” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning my nose up.

            He went still and his eyes went wide, as though considering the magnitude of my threat.  Then he smiled that wide, leering, debonair smile of his.

            “Can’t tell night from day down here, Lus.  How are you gonna know when the week is up?” he teased, raising his brow.  My mouth hung in horror.  He had gotten me good.

            “You’re mean!” I retorted, giving him my back.  He tickled my ribs again, but I pushed his hands away.  He tried a few more times before he finally huffed in defeat.

            “Fine” he groaned.

            “Really?!  Oh you’re so sweet to me Penny!” I shouted, throwing my arms around him. “I promise I’ll do something very special for you when I get back” I purred seductively, giving each pom pom on his coat a little squeeze.

            “Eh he he he he.  Oh I’ll hold you to that my sweet” he said, nuzzling my neck.  Then he stood and walked to one of the sealed doors that lined the cistern.  He unlatched the heavy iron rods like they weighed nothing, then he pulled and the door opened, revealing a dry tunnel.  Then he walked back toward me.

            “Up you go!” he said, picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder.  He hopped into the tunnel and we disappeared into a cavernous maze.

            He weaved through the abandoned tunnels that he had surely drained and sealed off decades ago.  The floor was completely dry, there was no moss or filthy stench that indicated any moisture.  The only thing that littered the tunnel was dry leaves and dust.  Minutes later, we reached a tall iron ladder built into the wall of the tunnel that went all the way to a sealed drain.   I held on for dear life as he climbed up effortlessly as though made up of numerous limbs.  When we reached the top he twisted the lock, pushed, and the door opened, revealing bright sunlight.

            I squinted at the sudden brightness after having spent an unknown number of days below ground.  When my eyes finally adjusted I noticed we were on the banks of a small, shallow river.  Pennywise put me down on the soft grass.

            “It’s midmorning” I said, looking up at the sky.

            He said nothing, fiddling with his hands.   He made no attempt to hide his uneasiness.

            “I’ll be back before sunset” I reassured him, taking his face in my hands and kissing him. “I just need to settle some things.  Besides, you can see everything that goes on in this place.  You’ll know exactly where I am”

            “Sunset” he said, nodding and sitting down on the edge of the drain.

            I began to make my way toward town, stopping every now and then to look back as he watched me go.  At the entrance of town I waved, he waved back in the distance, and I became lost in the bustle of Derry.  I weaved my hands through my hair to make myself look as presentable as possible, I dusted the jeans I had pulled out of my suitcase, closed the neck of my trench coat to hide the dry blood and the claw marks, and looked down to make sure the high heel booties I wore were not muddy.  Soon I reached Main Street and caught glimpse of the Town House.  I stopped at the entrance, took a deep breath, and walked in

            A young, pretty woman looked up from her computer desk at me and smiled in recognition.  Against my nature, I couldn’t help but think what her greatest fear must be.

            “Lus!  Where have you been?!” she exclaimed. “Paul and Ryan and Jason have been asking for you!”

            “Oh, here and there” I said as nonchalant as possible, trying my damned hardest to remember her name and coming up with nothing.

            “Which tours did you go on?  You look absolutely primeval, like you just went found your way to town after getting lost for day in some godforsaken mountain” she laughed, then she gasped in realization.  “Don’t tell me, they took you camping by the rapids in Bangor” she said excitedly, looking me up and down.

            “Exactly!” I said, winking and giving her the thumbs up, hoping it looked as normal and human as possible.

            “What was your favorite part?  Oh please tell me you were able to sneak into the quarry North of town”

            “The quarry?” I asked curious.

            “They only open it during the summer.  It’s 50 feet deep but with frost beginning to settle in, they don’t want people venturing in there.  But some people still go there to light up bonfires and hang out until the first snow comes”

            “Huh” I said, making a mental note. 

            “So… is this it for you or you still haven’t gotten enough of Derry?”

            “Oh, I will never get enough of Derry” I said, feeling my mouth salivate “but I’ve come to check out”

            “So sorry to see you go.  It’s back to New York for me too.  I leave in a week.  You got your bag out already?”

            “Yeah… it’s already loaded into the taxi” I said, taking the room key out of my pocket and handing it to her.  I prayed she didn’t notice the small hints of grime that stained my hands.

            She took the key and began typing away at the computer.  “If you hadn’t disappeared we would have taken you places.  Gary was already planning some trips for all of us to go on but you suddenly dropped off the radar”

            “Oh, they offered me tours at a very reasonable price and I didn’t feel right bothering you all” I replied and realized that I was clutching the edge of the counter so hard that my knuckles turned white.  I quickly let go and folded my hands in front of me.

            “Well, if you come back in the spring and summer we can show you some really awesome places” she said, walking to the printer.  She came back with a check out slip and handed it to me.  “It was such a pleasure getting to meet you.  I was wondering…” she paused and looked around as if embarrassed “maybe, and this will sound completely untoward, but could you please invite us to your next show before Phantom leaves for Europe?”

            I looked at her dumbfounded.  _Phantom?  Show? Europe?_

            “Please forgive me, I know I shouldn’t have asked” she said, blushing and looking away.

            “No, no, no.  It just dawned on me that I’ll be leaving for Europe soon” I replied as casual as I could, waving it off.  “Sure you can!  You can all have a box and see me… perform, I guess”

            “Oh my gosh how exciting!  Do you need my address or…”

            “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure those tickets get to you.  I’ll send them here to the Town House” I winked, taking the receipt and stuffing it into my coat pocket.

            “Well then, let me give you a hug!” she shouted and ran around the counter.  I froze and a second later she wrapped her arms around me tight.  _Oh shit!  Do I smell?  I bet my coat smells like an open sewer drain!  Don’t act so weird, Lus, you obviously knew the girl before… before…_

            My arms went around her small frame and I gave her a couple of pats to her back.  “Don’t worry, we shall all see each other again for the show and I’ll be back in the summer” I said as warmly as possible.

            “I can’t wait!” she exclaimed excitedly.  I waved goodbye and began to make my way to the doors, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible.  She unsettled me. 

            “Goodbye!” she said one last time.  I looked back, waved again, and walked out onto the midmorning sun that suddenly began to dim.  Dark clouds were forming in the bright blue sky, and the wind was picking up.  As I reached into my pocket to fish out my wallet, the first raindrops fell.  They were big and forceful, promising a short but raging storm.  I ran for shelter and made my way to the entrance canopy of a quaint café. 

            As the clouds released their fury, I stood under the tent and looked down at the contents of my wallet.  I knew that Chase Bank and Bank of America were on Mall Road, a mere three blocks away, but I had seen an ATM machine as I ran for shelter.  I tapped the cards on my hand nervously, trying my hardest to remember anything of who I had been.  The girl at the Town House had said I was a theatre performer, and judging by her words, I was important enough that I could reserve a box for personal guests. 

            “Who the fuck am I?!” I said through tears that pooled in my eyes.

            That was when I noticed the townsfolk.  They were all rushing to and fro, putting purses and briefcases to their heads to shield them from the rain.  They all seemed to revel in the sudden autumn storm that seemed to come from nowhere.  Perhaps Pennywise was trying to force me back to the lair, or perhaps his thoughts were once again dark and fearful.  But I felt nothing.  In fact, that was the first time in which I realized that I truly felt nothing. I noticed that everyone else was well bundled up, with coats, scarves and light gloves.  A woman or two ran by with beanies on their heads and boots on their feet.  And then I remembered what the girl in the Town House had said, that the quarry was closed because frost had begun to settle in.  Derry was in Maine, the coldest state.  And here I was in a thin trench coat as though it were a balmy late summer day.  I felt no cold, my nose did not drip, my hands did not tremble with chill.  It might as well be thirty degrees below zero or one hundred and twenty.   Temperature had no effect on me.

            Dumbfounded, I walked out of the canopy and into the rain.  To a human, the rain would have struck with a chilling force, but to me it was warm, welcome shower.  I threw out my arms and laughed up at the sky as I became soaked all the way to my skin.  I remained thus, eyes closed and arms outstretched, until finally the rain died down and the clouds began to recede.  Pale sunlight began to break through, and the town returned to normal. 

            I earned a confused stare or two from passing townsfolk as I made my way to the ATM outside a pharmacy.  I quickly stuck my American Express card in, and blinked at the error message on the screen that read: ‘ _Card not recognized_ ’

            After two more attempts with the same result, I tried the two Chase Bank cards.  Each came back with the same message.  My hands shook as I tried the last card, the one from Bank of America.

            “What the fuck” I whispered as I read the words once more.  _Card not recognized_.

            I counted the cash in my wallet, as though dreading that by some dark magic it had vanished along with whatever money I had previously had.  I stuffed my wallet back into my coat and almost ran the three miles to Mall Road. 

 

 

3.

_The Quarry_

 

            I was submerged under thirty feet of water, suspended in the gentle hold of an aquatic realm that almost felt to be bursting with life.  Above me, a thin sheet of ice covered the surface, safe for one small circle where my naked body had plunged into the frigid waters.  I had sunk straight to the bottom, where I bounced up but ceased my flailing in the middle.  Now I floated here, with my eyes open, feeling them adjust to the darkness as my mind replayed the events of only moments prior.

            _“Are you visiting the area? I see that you’re stationed in Vermont” the branch manager of Chase Bank had asked._

_“I am.  Taking a little break from… performing”_

_“I see.  Ms.  Dietrich, your two checking accounts and your four different trust funds that maintained the daily balance of those accounts were closed out last week, as you’re certainly aware”_

_I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “I am” I managed to choke out._

_“Then what can we do for you?”_

_“Oh, I just wanted to ensure the entire process went smoothly. I require a confirmation of the closings of the trust funds and the accounts, for business reasons”_

_He looked at me oddly.  “The accounts were not only closed, but all the funds were transferred to an offshore private bank”_

            There was rich vegetation at the bottom of the waterhole, which was not a very flat surface but broken into tiers where miners had dug up limestone.  A very healthy ecosystem of fresh water fish thrived there, keeping the water clean and pristine.  I watched them swim around me as though investigating the alien that had suddenly invaded their realm. 

            There was a certain kind of peace there, where no sound of human commotion nor the bustling of wind and sky interrupted the stillness.  There was only one other place where I also felt like this, where there was only a haunting quiet that hung in the air and invaded the senses.  A loud, ear splitting silence:

            Pennywise’s Tower.

            I began to kick and make my way up.  Soon, I broke the surface, and laughed loud and carefree.  I continued to wade in the water, diving to the bottom and swimming my way up only to plunge again.  Where I was once afraid of deep waters, I now felt like I belonged there.  No longer belonging to the human world, I sought solitude and seclusion. 

            I laughed, not only at my fortune of having found a perfect place to be alone with my thoughts, but also at the absurdity of what had transpired only hours prior.  The document I had been given at both banks which provided the best glimpse of who I had been were now torn and beginning to disintegrate at the bottom of the lake.

            I broke the surface again and made my way toward shore.  I sat on the towel I had purchased from a store at the mall and began to dress myself.  Sunset would soon come, and no doubt Pennywise was still sitting at the edge of the drain, waiting for me to return.  I smiled at the mental image of an exasperated clown, sitting with legs and arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face.

            Once dressed, I continued to sit and look out toward the still water.  Someone somewhere had drained all my financial funds the moment I set foot in Derry, leaving me with nothing but the change in my pocket.  And yet, somehow, I felt as though I was the one richer. 

            As I stood to fold the towel and begin to make my way home, I caught site of a turtle laying on a rock a few feet from me.  Its small, round, beady eyes were fixed on me, staring, watching… _studying me_.

            “Ah, ye olde Maturin” I mocked, waving at it.  Whoever was watching me had taken the form of the ancient Guardian as a distraction.  The turtle’s head seemed to twitch just slightly, then it scurried into the water and swam off.

            “You won’t win!” I called out to it, and walked off in the direction of the Barrens.

 

End of Chapter 9


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